Painting the Sky
by DefyGravity18
Summary: Erik and Evangeline's children are grown and beginning lives of their own. A story of love, loss and friendship.
1. Prologue

April 1897

"And you will write, won't you?" Claire Destler's mother stood before her with tears in her eyes.

"Of course, I will Mama. You'll barely notice that I'm gone." She embraced her quickly, avoiding her father's gaze. Saying goodbye to her father would be the hardest part of all. Claire and her father were very close, and very alike in many ways. They each kept to themselves and were passionate creative souls.

As she was pulled into a tight embrace by her father, Claire bit back tears. She was leaving her family for nearly a year to travel with her Grandmother on a grand tour. At seventeen, Claire still wasn't sure what her purpose in life was, and she hoped very dearly that traveling with Gran would help her figure that out. Charles, the eldest, was an architect like their father. He was in Italy for the moment, working to open a new office there for their father. Her oldest sister Madeleine was recently married and had moved into Paris to live with her new husband. Her sister Isabella had recently taken a position as a governess and her younger sister Julienne was off at finishing school for the year. Esme was still too young at nine years old to know what she wanted to do. Her biggest concern was which doll to seat where at her imaginary tea parties.

Her father pulled back and tilted her chin to look up at him.

"You don't have to go." He said, pleading. Swallowing the lump in her throat she averted her eyes.

"Yes I do, Dad. I need to do this. For _me_." He nodded sadly, touching her cheek.

"You've always been stuck in the middle Claire. Third youngest. Third oldest. Go, and enjoy yourself and be first for once. But come home to us."

"I will." She croaked, throwing herself into his warm arms again and choking back a sob. She pulled on her hat and cloak, and followed her Gran to the doorway, looking once more at her mother, father and little Esme. S

She closed the door behind her, looking up to the sun coming through the heavy clouds.


	2. Home

**Paris, March 1898**

"Is that her?" Julienne asked, straining to see over the heads of the people crowded around the port in Le Havre. Evie patiently pulled her daughter back and turned to her husband. Esme and Bella were at home, readying things for Claire's arrival home.

"Is it?" She asked. He shook his head.

"That woman was at least thirty." He said, his mouth in a smirk. "And her nose was as big as England." Erik's eyes widened in recognition. "I see Giselle." He said, squeezing Evie's hand. Her heart began to flutter and then, she heard him sigh. "There she is."

Evangeline saw her mother first, embracing her tightly as if she were still only a girl. Giselle smiled, patting her cheek. When Evie looked up at her daughter, she barely recognized the woman standing there. She was thin and elegant, standing taller than Evie by about two inches. Her black hair was pulled back into a soft, loose coiffure and her green eyes were brilliant beneath her long, ebony eyelashes. Evie had never imagined that one of her children would possess such an exotic beauty and, though she'd known before that Claire would be extremely beautiful, she'd really grown into her features and become breathtaking.

"Mama." Claire said in someone else's voice.

An adult voice.

Claire threw herself into Evie's arms and leaned down to rest her head on Evie's shoulder. It really was Claire.

"Oh, Claire." Evie sobbed holding her daughter tightly. "You're beautiful." Claire pulled back, smiling at her before turning to Erik, who had the strangest tight expression on his usual cool, collected face.

"Dad." She whispered, and warmth filled Evie as she watched the two hug. Erik and Claire had always shared a close bond, with their similar interests and quirks. Julienne rolled her eyes, tugging on Evie's sleeve.

"Mam_a_." She complained. "Can't we go home? It's already nearly noon."

"Lets." Erik agreed, leading them to their carriage.

* * *

"What was it like?" Bella asked serenely, flitting about the kitchen carefully and putting ingredients into a bowl. Claire sat at the small servants' table, watching her with a smile. Bella was a wonderful cook, but she always had a tendency to spill on herself. She was not gifted with grace, but she was lovely all the same. It made her more appealing, in Claire's honest opinion.

"Italy was beautiful…all of that history. The statues. And Greece was fantastic. Everything Maman told us about Greece was true. It was paradise. I really loved England too. It was all wonderful, but I am so very glad to be home."

It was true. As lovely as the rest of the continent was, her favorite place was still home. Bella sighed, pushing a stray lock of dark hair out of her face.

"I wish I could have gone, but I couldn't leave Jane and Claude to look after themselves could I?" Bella asked, cracking an egg. Claire had to laugh.

"They're not even your children, Bella!" She said, "You're their governess. Their parents could find someone to watch after them, or better yet, they could watch them themselves like Mama and Dad did for us."

"We were an exception Claire. You know most parents rely on nurses and governesses to rear their children. Even the Chagnys had a governess." Claire winced at the thought of the Chagnys. Gustave, the Vicomte de Chagny, whom she'd had a silly schoolgirl crush on for years, Lotte, married with a child and another on the way and Emmeline, who was so shy she could barely speak in public. Claire rolled her eyes, hating how stupid she had been. Gustave had never given her a second glance. Why then, had she loved him so desperately and why did the mention of his name still send her heart into palpitations? It was ridiculous. At least now Claire could speak in his presence and be herself. Never ever, would she utter a word to him about her stupid feelings.

"…can't believe Charles bought a bachelor house in the city! What does he need his own house for, when he's got a perfectly good home already here?" Bella was saying. Claire realized she had just missed nearly five minutes of conversation with her sister thinking about her nearly forgotten love for someone she'd never have. "You know?" Bella urged, now staring at Claire.

"Mmm." Claire nodded in agreement.

"Then again," Bella went on, her sweet, small voice lilting as she began to mix her ingredients, "Charles is a man, and I do suppose it's different with men. He must like his privacy, working with Dad and all. And it just isn't seemly for a woman to live alone. Not that I would want to personally…"

Claire thought of the upcoming ball at Tristan Coolidge's Paris home. The future Marquis of Keating. The thought of Tris ever being an aristocrat made Claire grin wryly. No one had ever been less suited for a job of responsibility. He was a confirmed rake, and furthermore was scandalized in the papers daily. His parents were coming to Paris for a visit and he was welcoming them with a ball. Everyone in society would be there, and Gustave de Chagny…well, he was twenty-one and probably still didn't even know her name. She made a resolution right then to move on with her life. Gustave de Chagny would never even know she existed.

"…and Lotte's little Annabelle is just adorable. Emmy said that she thinks Lotte will have a boy this time, which is good, considering Lotte's husband is a Duke and needs an heir." Bella stopped. "Are you even listening to me?" She asked, looking slightly amused with her younger sister.

"I'm sorry, Bella…I'm distracted today. I think I am just tired from the traveling." Claire stood and walked to her sister, who was now shorter than she was. Gently, she wiped a bit of flour off of Bella's cheek and kissed the pink skin. Bella always blushed when she was embarrassed.

"I'll bring you a piece of cake, when it's done." Bella said smiling at her. Claire smiled to herself as Bella turned back to her cake, and she stifled a giggle as a bit of the mix flew out of the bowl. Bella made a small sound of distress. Shaking her head, Claire headed out into the hall and nearly ran into Esme.

"My goodness!" Claire cried, catching the nine year old by her arms and setting her to rights. "Slow down Es. You might miss something."

"Bella said I could help her put the cake in the oven and I didn't want to miss it!" Esme cried breathlessly. Claire smiled.

"Well then, by all means…" She gestured to the door.

"Thanks!" Esme cried, running into the kitchen. Claire could hear Bella's calm voice, guiding her younger sister as to what to do. She really was wonderful with children.

Claire found Julienne alone in the parlor, staring out the window.

"What's the matter?" Claire asked, joining her on the window seat. Julienne sighed.

"Nothing…" She said, obviously lying.

"What is it?" Claire persisted. Julienne looked at her, obviously debating whether or not to tell her secret.

"I let James Westcliff kiss me." She said quietly. Claire's eyes widened.

"Oh?"

"Yes. He's well…we're courting." Julienne shrugged helplessly.

"So what's the problem?"

"I…well, he's so handsome and lovely, but…I just…there aren't any…"

"Sparks?" Claire asked, trying to be helpful. Julienne nodded.

"Yes! Precisely. Well, you see, it's complicated."

"I've got time." Claire laughed. Julienne nodded.

"I ran into Simon Reynolds…literally _ran_ into him in town on Tuesday."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"I tripped and fell right onto him, knocking us both over…" Julienne's face reddened. "And I felt…things."

"_Things?_" Claire cried, laughing so hard her stomach began to hurt. Julienne glared at her. "Like _what?_"

"Forget it. I knew you wouldn't understand." Julienne said, getting up. Claire held her by the wrist.

"No, no! I'm sorry." She composed herself.

"My heart began to beat really fast and I couldn't breathe."

"Simon Reynolds? Really?" Claire asked incredulously. "Jules…I never would have thought you would be attracted to all that blond brawny…_maleness._"

"Me either. Because James is really the type I always thought I would end up with and then this…it's so unexpected." Julienne shrugged. "Then again, I am only seventeen. What do I know?"

"Aunt Fern was sixteen when she married Uncle Dag." Claire reminded her. Julienne raised an eyebrow.

"Things were different in the old days." Julienne laughed. "You don't have to marry straight out of the cradle these days."

"Don't let Maman hear you saying that." Claire teased. Julienne rolled her eyes.

"Oh please! Daddy is sixty-six now!" Julienne said.

"And he still looks forty." Claire added protectively. Her father wasn't like other older people. He didn't seem like he had one foot in the grave. His hair was barely even graying. He was so full of life and he didn't limp or have a gravelly voice like other men his age.

"Besides. Maman waited until she was twenty-four to marry." Julienne insisted defiantly. "And I plan to make something of myself before settling down." Laughing, Claire kissed the top of her sister's head.

"I admire you Jules. I wish I were that brave." Moving toward the door, she said, "I think I'll go find Dad."

Her father was exactly where she thought he'd be. He was standing on the back terrace, deep in thought as he looked over the gardens.

"It's getting warmer." Claire said, breaking the silence. He murmured in agreement, not startled by her sudden appearance. As he turned to look at her, Claire saw the concern in his eyes.

"How are you, Claire?" His voice was silky and serious. She bit her bottom lip before moving closed.

"Glad to be home, Dad. Honestly." It wasn't a lie.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" He was smiling now, reading her like an open book. Her stomach dropped and her eyes lowered.

"I…no." She admitted. "I supposed it's difficult to find something when you don't know what it is that you want." Sympathy came into his green eyes, exactly the same as hers. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Keep looking. You'll find it eventually." Claire threw her arms around him, overwhelmed with happiness to be home. Somehow, even though Claire and her father would never revisit this conversation, she knew he understood.

* * *

Tristan Coolidge, the future Marquis of Keating, was sure of three things.

One, his father was ill and quite near death, upon which Tris would need to return to England.

Two, even though he continued his streak of rakish behavior, he was no longer content with it.

Three, that scared the hell out of him.

Tris had met Charles Destler at Oxford and had become instant friends with him. Since graduating three years earlier, Charles had put his education to good use and joined his father's architecture business as a partner. In the meantime, Tris had gone on as if university had never happened. Even though he'd gotten a degree and had kept up decent grades, he had no passion for anything other than living as he pleased.

While Charles was gifted in art, mathematics _and_ music, all Tris seemed really good at was persuasion.

And really, what good was _that?_

Finally, there was _her_. The forbidden fruit that haunted his lusty dreams. His best friend's baby sister.

_Bella. _

Isabella Destler was everything Tris had never wanted.

Sweet.

Demure.

Kindhearted.

Worse yet, she didn't fawn over him like most other girls did. It was not satisfactory to one's ego to have the one person you wanted to impress not even notice you.

Not that he could ever act on these ridiculous feelings even _if _they were reciprocated. Charles would murder him. He was unbearably protective of not only his five sisters, but all of his cousins as well. Which really did not bode well for Tris's options since the women in Charles's family made up about half of Paris's population. Not only that, but all of them were beautiful. Every blood one of them. Even little Esme, who was an _infant_ would one day be stunning.

Bella was different from her sisters though. Madeleiene had an almost Irish appeal with her auburn curls and light freckles. Claire had an unapproachable, otherworldly beauty. One couldn't tear their eyes away from her, but it was hard to look at her all at once. Like looking at the sun. Julienne was only seventeen, but her beauty was similar to Claire's, except for the warm blue eyes and a wider smile, which made her seem less intimidating. Little Esme had gleaming coppery brown hair. At ten years old, she was an adorable imp. Yet somehow, in all of those girls, Bella's understated beauty got lost. Once, when Tris had attended dinner, she'd joked that she was the Plain Jane of the family. It was true that Bella was neither graceful nor regal…and she seemed content with that. But _plain?_

Tris cringed at even the thought. Her pale skin was flawless like porcelain with not a blemish or a freckle in sight. Her hair was a dark, chocolate brown and her eyes were the color of cinnamon. The fullness of her pink, ripe lips was unconventionally lovely, but somehow, her awkwardness only made Tris want her more.

_Plain._

It made him sick to think she actually _believed _that! If he had her, he'd spend ever day of his life convincing her she was wrong.

Tris stopped dead, nearly dropping his drink.

_If he had her?_ Moot point. It would never happen.

"Master?" His butler's voice broke his thoughts.

"Yes, Stratton." He replied, composing himself.

"Lord and Lady Keating have arrived." Tris gestured for him to send them in. His mother walked in first. Or stalked would be a more accurate description. Her cold blue eyes seemed to scrutinize the room coldly. A nurse wheeled his father in behind her. Tris had to fight his inner emotions to keep from crying out. The Marquis looked even worse than Tris had imagined.

"Tristan." His mother's voice acknowledged him in a frosty welcome.

"Mother." He nodded to her. "Father." He added, wondering how he could have ever feared the man in the wheelchair. A slight feeling of triumph fluttered inside Tris as he remembered how his father had intimidated him his entire life to try and shape him into the perfect aristocrat. His father barely seemed to notice his existence, teetering on the edge of sleep.

"Have you found a bride?" His mother asked, forgoing all subtleties. Tris shook his head, fighting the angry lump in the back of his throat at her hurtful tone.

"Well, do remember you are soon to be a Marquis. Your wife must be perfectly bred."

"No one is perfect, Mother." He fought, thinking protectively of the scrutiny any woman he would marry would have to endure from the Marchioness.

"You can settle for no less than perfection."

"How soon?" He asked, changing the subject back to his decrepit father. The Marchioness pursed her lips.

"A fortnight. Perhaps a month."

Tris felt his eyes widen.

"I see." He replied, devoid of emotion.

"We shall stay for the duration and then you will return to England with me to find a suitable _English_ bride." Tris winced at her emphasis on _English._

"And if I refuse?" He fired at her, livid. To his fury, she smirked smugly.

"You won't." Her voice was snide. "You have always been weak, Tristan. But I shall guide you."

The way she said that sent a trill of alarm through him.


	3. Midnight Blue

**Paris, March 1898**

"You have a responsibility, Gustave." Raoul, Comte de Chagny said to his son the Vicomte. Gustave de Chagny, aged twenty and one, lounged on one of his father's office chairs. His fair hair was cut neatly and his blue eyes were bright in his tanned face. He was handsome, or at least, that was what his little sister Emmy had told him when she'd said all of her friends swooned at the mention of him. Yes, vapid little airheads that Emmy's friends were…they didn't interest him. And he knew he should be looking for a wife. Not that he was long in the tooth. Many men waited until their thirties to marry. Why should he be different?

"I'm not saying you should marry _now_, Gustave…" His father was saying, "But it might be a good idea to be thinking of betrothal."

"Dad," Gustave said calmly. "How easy it is for you to say so. You and Mother were in love from the time she was a girl."

"Yes. That is true." Raoul conceded, smiling affectionately at the mention of Christine. "But also," He went on, "I wasn't merely talking about the subject of marriage. You as the Vicomte, have a responsibility to appear at social events more often than you do and, as a patron of the opera, to at least attend one show per year."

"But I hate the opera, and our patronage was not my idea." Gustave protested. Raoul smiled wryly.

"Don't let your mother hear you say that." He chuckled. "Just think about it. And keep your eyes open."

"Right." Gustave said testily. "No pressure."

"None at all." Raoul grinned. "You will be attending the Coolidge ball tonight for Lord and Lady Keating, won't you."

"I shall make an appearance." Gustave agreed.

"Perfect. Now, where has your mother gotten off to?" His father asked.

"Trying to control that mass of curls Emmy calls hair." Gustave quipped. Raoul chuckled and left the room. Gustave cringed and decided a drink might do him good.

* * *

Tris waited expectantly beside his mother for his guests to arrive. He hated that he had to pretend to be happy and carefree when he felt anything but. In mere weeks he would be forced to leave his home and lead a life he never asked for. He'd have to marry a woman he didn't know…which was an abomination because he couldn't imagine marrying _any_ one. Not when he couldn't think about anyone but her.

Charles would kill him if he ever knew.

Tris had to admit though, he'd done a stellar job of hiding it for the past four years. What was the rest of his life?

"Monsieur Coolidge." Tris noticed the Chagnys had arrived. The Comte and Comtesse, still radiantly young, and their children, the Vicomte and Emmeline.

"My Lord, how glad we are you came." Tris reluctantly turned to introduce them to his mother. "This is my mother, the Marchioness of Keating. Unfortunately, my father is unwell and will not be joining us tonight."

"Oh…I'm sorry." The Comtesse said. Tris nodded, as they moved past him.

"You're doing well, Tristan, but you are far too warm." His mother criticized. "You should be more aloof."

"I daresay I know the French better than you." He bit at her. "And perhaps it would do you good to follow _my_ lead."

"Hmmpf." She replied. His spirits lifted slightly when he saw Charles enter the room alone, but grinning.

"Coolidge." He said, shaking his hand. Tris smiled.

"Destler." Inwardly he cringed as he turned to his mother. "Mother, may I introduce Charles Destler, my closest friend and the most talented man I know."

"Is this the architect?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Yes." Tris said through gritted teeth.

"Professional men." She almost spat.

"A pleasure, my lady." Charles said with a twinkle in his eyes. "And you are so elegant and…regal."

"You may go." Lady Keating dismissed him coldly. Charles shared a private grin with Tris before his eyebrow raised.

"Ah, here come the masses."

"Excuse me?" The Marchioness asked. Charles chuckled.

"My parents and my pile of sisters."

"I quite like that." Tris commented. "A pile of sisters." This was, apparently too much for the Marchioness to take, for she stomped off. "Well done, mate." Tris commended Charles, who shrugged.

Mr. and Mrs. Destler came in first. Mrs. Destler wore a light blue dress, which made her eyes positively glow and her auburn hair seemed aflame. Next, Tris saw Claire, ethereal in beauty with her black hair and green eyes. She seemed to know how enchanting her eyes were, for she wore a green dress to match them. Julienne, the young one, wore pink which gave her a youthful yet lovely blush.

Bella was last, always a bit behind. As her family parted, Tris could see her. Her chocolate colored hair was pinned loosely at the base of her neck with a few tendrils loose and curled. A midnight blue dress set off the paleness of her skin remarkably. She did not know her own beauty. It was obvious in the way she carried herself. Almost as if she was resigned that she would never outshine anyone.

Not that she was so unapproachable. Bella was the type of person people liked to talk to. But she wasn't the kind that men sought out to marry because she was neither aggressive nor demure. He strode over to them so that they would not have to endure the critical eye of his mother.

"My favorite people!" He said happily, shaking Mr. Destler's hand.

"Ah, Tris." Mr. Destler replied. "Good to be here." Nodding toward the three girls and his wife he said, "You know the rest of them. Claire, Julienne and Bella…"

Tris shook all three of their hands, stopping at Bella.

"Tris." She said, smiling warmly and squeezing his hand. Before he knew it, she had gone, following her sisters toward their friends.

_Bella._

"Claire has really grown up, hasn't she?" Charles commented. Tris stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"Oh, I can't fault you for looking, Tris." He laughed. "Claire is going to be the toast of Paris this season."

"You think I'm looking at _Claire?_" Tris asked, almost angrily.

"_Aren't _you?" Charles asked, confused.

"_No._" Tris answered testily. "_Claire._" He growled, sully now. Charles chuckled.

"Sorry…I just assumed. Every man I've seen lately practically drools at the sight of her."

"Well I don't." Tris said quickly. _Only Bella._

"Good. Because you know my sisters are off limits to you."

"They've got to get married to someone." Tris heard himself say. Charles's eyes widened.

"You aren't the marrying kind." He laughed. "I won't have them lead on to be hurt."

"I would never…_ever_…with your family, Charles." Tris insisted.

"Are you interested in marrying one of my sisters?" Charles asked cautiously.

"No." Tris replied, so quickly, even _he_ wouldn't have believed himself. Charles's eyes narrowed, as if reading his mind. But Tris adapted his facial expression back to his normal crooked half smile. "Besides," He went on, "Why settle down when there are still so _many_ women to corrupt?" He walked away from Charles, or rather, practically ran.

He could hear his heart beating in his ears. And then it happened.

Someone had asked Bella to dance.

He saw red.

* * *

Gustave stayed close to the edge of the room, keeping his eyes open for matchmaking mothers and their offspring. His eyes zeroed in on one very intent looking woman dragging her poor daughter (who couldn't have been more than sixteen) toward him.

He ran.

Luckily, the door out to the garden was open and he flung himself around a hedge as the woman and her poor girl looked around in confusion. Trying to catch his breath he bent over.

"Are you _that_ averse to commitment?" A dry female voice cut in, startling him. Looking up, he saw what could only be a Destler girl. Her arms were crossed and her perfectly sculpted black eyebrows were raised in a cynical expression. He could not tell in the darkness which one it was, but he knew for certain she was one of them.

"Mademoiselle," He panted, "I was unaware that someone else was…"

"Don't worry," She said, turning away. "I won't try to marry you." He watched her start to walk away and a sense of duty washed over him.

"Please," He said, following her. "You shouldn't be alone out here…it's not safe for a lady…" A slight chuckle emerged from her throat.

"You never seemed to care before, my lord." She said, tolerating his presence, but not seeming to enjoy it.

"I apologize," He said, trying in vain to see her. "But which Destler girl _are_ you? I can't see in the dark I'm afraid."

"Perhaps I shall let you walk me back and you may find out when we come into the light." She said, still walking. He tried to offer his arm but she would not take it.

"Please." He said, wondering why he wished to know her name.

"If you wait just a moment, the moon shall emerge from the clouds and you will see for yourself." She let out a small breath. "Then again, I doubt you would know my name even if you saw my face. I seem to recall you being smitten with my sister Madeleine."

"I was young and stupid." He laughed, "It was nothing more than infatuation."

"Infatuation." She replied softly. "I like that word."

"Are you Isabella?" He asked, wanting desperately now to know to whom he was speaking.

"No." She whispered.

"You're one of the two young ones." He said more to himself than to her.

She did not respond, but instead began to walk away.

"Julienne, is it?"

No response. She was irritated now, he could tell. Not that he could blame her. It was extremely rude not to know the name of a girl you had known forever.

And then he remembered.

"Claire!"

She stopped, turning toward him.

"_Very_ good, Monsieur le Vicomte." She said viciously. "You've done your duty. You may go now."

"But I don't want to." He protested, feeling horrible now.

"We've returned to the ballroom. I am no longer in need of an escort." She started up the steps toward the open door. "You may return to hiding."

"Let me…" He never finished the sentence, however, because she stepped into the light and he could see her clearly.

There are defining moments in everyone's lives. Their first steps, first words…achievements in school…and when they fall in love.

It's a moment where every thread in your life breaks off and reattaches; making the person you're supposed to be with the center of your universe. No one else exists anymore but that person.

In that moment, Gustave Raoul Georges, Vicomte de Chagny finally noticed Claire Destler.

And he realized that she no longer cared what he thought.

* * *

Isabella Destler had always known she would never be the best at anything. She'd come to accept the fact that she was not the prettiest or smartest. When people complimented her family, they were not referring to her. Although she was a good singer and could play the piano, Charles and Claire could both do it better. Even Esme was more of a prodigy than Bella ever would be.

Her sisters had all been blessed with auburn, fiery or black hair, while Bella had generic brown hair and eyes. She was the only of her sisters to inherit her Grandmother Madeleine's brown eyes. Bella's hair was neither curly nor straight. Her lips were too full to be attractive and her skin was so pale you could practically see through it. She felt like an outsider in a family full of special people. Sometimes she felt like an intruder. Even worse, sometimes she felt like a failure.

It was why she loved being a governess. The children depended on her for love and attention which they hardly received from their fragile and often sickly mother and their poor father, who tried so hard to make their mother happy. She loved them as if they were her own children. Jane and Claude.

She was surprised beyond words when a man had asked her to dance at the ball that night. Ignoring the fact that they were probably only asking because Claire was missing at the moment and Julienne was already dancing with someone, she accepted. Bella recognized the young man as the son of her father's friend, Monsieur Champoux.

"So, where is your sister?" He asked as they danced. Bella inwardly groaned and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm sure I don't know, Monsieur." She said sweetly.

"I assume she is spoken for." He said, sounding disappointed.

"Not a'tall." She replied, wanting desperately to walk away. Her manners were far too good.

"D'you think she'd let me call on her?" He asked. Bella bit her cheek to keep from slapping him.

"I cannot speak for her, sir…"

"May I cut in?" Bella filled with relief at the sight of Tris, who was standing behind Monsieur Champoux, looking utterly sullen.

"Oh, please do!" She said brightly, smiling at Tris and pulling out of the other man's arms. Champoux hardly seemed to notice as he drifted away, obviously searching for Claire.

"Thank you, Tris." She said, noting the anger in his eyes. His jaw was set.

"For what?" He asked, easily turning her. She was relieved since, among other things, she was not a skilled dancer. With him, it seemed easy.

"For saving me. From him?" She looked toward her former partner. "All he did was ask me about Claire."

"Disgusting git." Tris said disdainfully, finally smiling at her.

"Well at least it looked like _some_one wanted to dance with me." She said with a sigh.

"Who wouldn't want to dance with you?" He asked, sounding surprised. A small laugh escaped her.

"Oh Tris," She said, "You don't have to play dumb. It's not like I'm fighting off suitors."

"I can't imagine why not." He said, spinning her and then drawing her back into the dance.

"Would you like the short list or the long?" She asked, and before he could say anything else, she said, "I'm plain, for one, not graceful, not exceptional in any way…"

"How can you even say things like that?" He asked, looking angry again. "You're lovely. And if you go on wearing that shade of blue, men will be falling at your feet."

"Thank you." She said, feeling a blush come to her face. "Such a ladykiller." She teased.

"I am nothing if not consistent with my rakish attitude." He grinned at her, and for the first time she noticed how green his eyes looked against the positively radiant shade of bronze his hair was. No wonder so many women fell all over him. It must be easy to be a rake when one was exceptionally beautiful.

She wouldn't know.

The dance ended and she curtseyed to him. He looked uneasy and upset.

"What is it?" She asked, taking his hand. He shook his head.

"My father…he's…I'm…my father is dying." He said, looking horrified that he'd said it aloud. Bella felt terrible instantly.

"Oh…Tris. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be." Tris replied swiftly. "He's a foul creature and a wretched human being. But unfortunately I am his heir and, in a few short weeks or less, I shall be the Marquis of Keating and have to leave my beloved France." The way he looked at her made her ache for him. A life he hadn't chosen or wanted.

"I didn't know…I'm…I don't know what to say." She said, feeling stupid.

"I shouldn't have told you this…it isn't your burden to bear."

"No." She agreed, but squeezed his hand. "But as your friend, I shall bear it with you. I'm glad you told me, Tris." With reluctance, she let go of him and watched him stride away. A strong melancholy came over her.

Poor Tris. Hopefully, he would find a nice girl to marry and be happy one day. She sincerely hoped it would happen soon for him.


	4. One Step Closer

Bella had two very rambunctious children on her hands, of that she was sure. Their mother had fallen ill and they were climbing the walls to see her.

"Bella?"

"Mmm?" She asked patiently, brushing Jane's long blonde locks.

"When will Maman be well?" Little Claude asked. Bella sighed, eyeing the boy as she finished braiding his sister's hair.

"Soon, no doubt. The doctor says it's nothing but a minor virus, love." She kissed the top of Jane's golden head and smiled at the two of them. "Now then, back to lessons…"

Both children groaned. Bella gave them both a look that told them it would be better for all their sakes if they cooperated.

"Our definitions for the day are conscious and chagrin. Who can tell me the definition of chagrin?" Bella asked and Jane sighed.

"Chagrin is distress of mind caused by disappointment, humiliation or failure." Bella had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Jane looked positively bored, the smart child that she was.

"Precisely Jane. Well done." She looked expectantly at Claude, who stared innocently at her. "Conscious?" She urged.

"I'm not quite sure." He said. A smirk threatened on her face.

"Just give it your best go, darling."

"Well…" He dawdled, and then looked sheepish. "I don't know…I forgot to study it." Bella made her face blank as she looked at Claude.

"Hmmm…" She said softly.

"What?" Claude asked.

"I think that you shall have to-" She was cut off, however, because the door had opened and the children's father, Monsieur Belgrave.

"Bella?" An apologetic look came to his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt but if I may have a word with you in private?"

"Of course, Monsieur." She said, turning to the children. "Read while I'm gone."

Claude gave her a look that told her he absolutely had no intentions of reading. Bella shut the door behind her, noticing the look on Monsieur Belgrave's face.

"Is something wrong?" She asked hesitantly. He sighed.

"The children's mother…she's…she's not going to make it." He said, sounding sad. Bella felt the color leave her face.

"You mean…she's _that_ sick?"

"I'm afraid so. Initially we thought she had a mild virus, but it's much worse. She's deteriorated so fast…" He said.

"What is it?" She whispered.

"They don't know." He looked down at her.

"What…I…What should I do?" Bella asked.

"I just…I'm going to need your help more than ever with the children." He said touching her shoulder. A small feeling of panic shuddered through her. Of course, a woman was dying down the hall.

"I'll do what I can." She promised, smiling at him.

"Why don't you go home now?" He said. "Tomorrow is going to be hard enough." Bella nodded.

"I'm sorry." She said feebly. He just gave a curt nod.

"Thank you."

As she watching him walk away, she went into the children's nursery and sighed. They looked up at her with big, expectant eyes.

"You are freed from today's lessons, darlings. I have some business to attend to, so I must leave." Bella said, trying to sound cheerful. Jane looked suspicious.

"Who will watch us?"

"Jane, you are nine years old. You shall be fine on your own. Your father is down the hall." Bella assured her. Jane looked upset by this. "I'll be back in the morning."

She kissed both of their heads and put on her coat.

"Be good for your father." She said, looking at them once last time before shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Tris was irritated.

There really was no other way to describe it. His mother had been criticizing his every move since she'd arrived. His father was barely awake for more than an hour every day now. He had to get out of the house.

So, in the end, he'd decided to walk through the city, near the Opera Populaire's extravagant building.

The Marquis of Keating.

It could happen today. He cringed at the thought. A young couple caught his sight. They stood in front of a jewelry store, kissing and smiling widely. Jealousy swept through him. How lucky they were to be in love. He hoped they stayed that way. A small feminine sigh distracted him. He turned around to look.

Sitting dejectedly on the bench was Bella. He tried to control the frantic pulse of his blood.

"Bella?" He heard himself ask. She looked up, her cinnamon eyes tired.

"Tris." She said, sitting up.

"What are you doing alone in the city?" Tris asked, now concerned for her welfare.

"Madame Belgrave is dying. They sent me home early today." She said softly.

"Why then, are you _here_?" He asked.

"I didn't want to go home." Bella replied sadly. "How is your father?" Tris tensed at the mention of the Marquis.

"Worsening every day." He replied. "But you shouldn't feel bad. He's a wretched creature."

"He's still human." Bella said, patting the seat beside her. "Sit."

He obliged without question. Her eyes flitted to the young couple he'd spotted just before.

"Look at them." She said wistfully. Nodding, he watched them walk away arm in arm. "I wonder how it feels to love someone that passionately."

"It's awful." Tris replied, still watching after them. A moment of silence went by before he realized Bella was staring at him in confusion. "What?" He asked.

"How could it be awful? Is there something you haven't been telling us?" She teased. He felt the color drain from his face.

"Of course not." He replied, trying to be cavalier. "I just think…it would be awful to love someone so desperately."

"Not me." Bella said softly, leaning back on the bench. "I wish just once, someone would look at me that way."

"One day," He said, taking her hand. "Someone will. I can promise you that." She sighed again.

"But I'm already twenty." She pointed out.

"I'll be you that someone is already madly in love with you and you never even knew it." He said, swallowing the huge mass that had formed in his throat.

"Well it doesn't do any good not to know." She laughed, patting his arm. "Oh Tris, you do make me laugh."

"Would you care to take a walk with me?" He blurted. Her eyes widened, and one eyebrow raised.

"In public? Together?" She asked incredulously. "People will talk."

"Bella, I've known you since you were practically a child. It's perfectly natural for two friends to walk together." He said, trying to sound blasé. She smiled reluctantly.

"You're right of course. Let them talk anyway. It could only help me, really." Another small giggled left her. "Where shall we go?"

"There!" He said, noticing a crowd of people. "They're dancing."

"No!" She laughed out loud. "You know I can't dance…"

"Well, we're going to. It's all in the way you carry yourself." He said, leading her to where a group of young couples were gathered around.

"I don't know this one." She said, looking slightly intimidated.

"Neither do I." He grinned wickedly at her, guiding her hand to his shoulder. "One step at a time."

She watched her feet with her brow furrowed in great concentration as he guided her in the steps.

"Relax, Bella. Let it come naturally." He put both hands on her waist and lifted her, causing her to shriek with surprised delight.

"Tris!" She giggled, out of breath. "People are staring at us!"

"What people?" He teased. "I only see you."

She blushed as he turned her.

"I'm going to lift you again, kick your legs out behind you." He instructed. Nodding, she did as he told her. When she was on her feet again, she let out an exhilarated breath.

The music slowed. And then, forgetting any semblance of a conscience he possessed, he drew her close and rocked back and forth as the other couples were doing. She was just the perfect height to where he could rest his cheek on the top of her head.

"Dancing is wonderful." She sighed.

"Yes it is." He agreed in a choked voice as he smelled her hair. Vanilla. He looked skyward.

_For the love of God…_He should let go of her right now. He should go home to see if he was still Tris Coolidge or Lord Keating, he should…

The music ended. Bella pulled away and looked up at him innocently.

She really had no idea.

"Thank you for making me feel graceful for once in my life." She said earnestly.

"I did nothing." He assured her, kissing her hand. "It was all your doing." Swallowing, he offered her his arm. "Come, you really should get home."

* * *

"Claire! Claire!" Esme cried excitedly, coming into the parlor, where Claire was reading. She looked up as the ten year old bounded into the room with her auburn braids flying behind her.

"Esme, really!" Claire smiled.

"Guess who is coming for a visit?" She asked. Claire shrugged, waiting for the answer. Esme's eyes lit up like Christmas.

"Roger! Roger and the Daroga are coming to see us!" Claire grinned fondly, think of Roger, the half Persian nephew of Monsieur Nadir Kahn, her father's dear acquaintance and close friend. Esme was especially fond of Roger, though all of the Destlers adored him.

Because of his mixed heritage, Roger was astounding to look at. His skin was a coppery bronze color and his jet black hair was long and thick. His eyes were hazel, complimented by his dark complexion and he was taller even, than Charles and their father. He was nineteen.

Roger was born to the Daroga's sister who had run away with an Irishman and returned to her brother for help when she became pregnant. She had died in childbirth and Nadir had been left the daunting task of raising his nephew. The Daroga's own son had died at nine years old and Roger helped to fill the void that Reza's death had created. The two were extremely close.

"Bella is going to be so excited!" Claire said happily.

"Claire, darling?" Their mother's voice came into the room and Claire looked up to see her standing there with Emmy de Chagny.

"Hello Emmy!" Claire said, patting the sofa beside her. "Maddie will be along shortly and Julienne is changing her dress." Emmy nodded shyly, looking as if she might like to melt into the carpet. She adored Emmeline, who was so shy, it was all consuming.

"Claire." She said, relieved.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" Emmy said, biting her lip. Claire could always tell when Emmy was lying.

"Girls, I'm going to have some cakes sent in." Claire's mother said, seeing the need for the girls to speak in private. "Esme, could you help me love?" Esme nodded, happily following her mother out of the room.

"What happened?" Claire asked again. Emmy shook her head.

"It's too awful. I-I'm so embarrassed." Her head was down and her cheeks were red. "Mum thought that if she got me together with some girls I don't know, that…that I would start to get used to strangers, so she made me have tea with…C-Chloe Blanchard and her friends."

"Oh no." Claire said, wincing. Chloe Blanchard was the most spoiled, hateful, wretched pig-nosed girl that she knew. She wasn't pretty, so she took out her bitterness on people who she envied. Emmy was a popular victim of hers because she was so fragile emotionally. It didn't take much to make Emmy cry.

"Yes, well…they made fun of my stammer and Chloe said she wondered if I had been dropped on my head as a baby."

Emmy burst into tears.

"Oh, Em…" Claire said, putting her arms around the poor girl, who'd never done anything but be nice to people.

"I don't know what I ever did to her!"

"Emmy, Chloe Blanchard is an evil, disgusting pig. She's so jealous of you, she could spit fire. It makes me sick the way she throws herself at Charles." Emmy looked up, tears lining her pretty brown eyes.

"S-She does?" She asked.

"All the time. It's pathetic."

"Does he like her?" Emmy asked, wide-eyed.

"As far as I know, Charles thinks she's a cow." Emmy nodded.

"He would never like someone like that."

"Never." Claire agreed, pulling out her handkerchief. "Here now, before Jules comes in, wipe your eyes, you're all blotchy."

"Oh bugger." Emmy sighed, patting her face. Claire looked up to see Bella, of all people entering the room looking tired, but somehow exhilarated.

"Bonjour." She called weakly, slumping into an armchair.

"What are you doing home?"

"Madame Belgrave is ill. They thought it best I come home for the day." She said, sounding exhausted.

"Why are you smiling like a fool then?" Claire asked, narrowing her eyes at her older sister. Bella laughed.

"Just in a good mood, I guess. Is there tea?"

"Here." Emmy said softly, pouring her a cup.

"Ah, thanks." Bella took a sip and then looked at Emmy. "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

"Not now." Claire mouthed to her. Bella nodded, getting the message. "Oh!" Claire exclaimed, remembering. "Roger and the Daroga are coming for a visit. They shall be here in the next day or so."

"Wonderful!" Bella said, clapping her hands excitedly. Voices came from outside, and Claire knew Maddie had arrived. She sprung up, waiting for her oldest sister to enter the room. Maddie was as beautiful as ever with her lovely red hair and her slightly protruding belly. Claire squealed and ran to her. Maddie laughed.

"Oh my…little Claire. Why, you're a woman now."

"The most beautiful woman, _I've_ ever seen." Bella agreed from her chair.

"Without question." Maddie agreed and Claire smacked her arm.

"Ugh. Stop saying that you two. It's nauseating. That's all people ever say about me…_she's beautiful_." Claire rolled her eyes.

"But it's true." Emmy added.

"Hush." Claire said, making Maddie sit down. "So, how long do you have, Maddie?"

"Until early June, I think. I'm entering confinement." She rolled her eyes. "Stupid custom, really. Adam thinks it's ridiculous."

"Only two months, Maddie." Bella said assuringly. Maddie patted her middle.

"I can't wait. Adam thinks it's a girl, but I think it's a boy." Maddie smiled adoringly. Adam was American and had been visiting France. He and Maddie had met at a party and he had proposed exactly two days following that. They were married three months later. Their father hadn't been happy at first, but Adam had grown on all of them. His funny accent no longer was cause for ridicule. He was part of the family.

"Does it matter?" Claire asked, touching her sister's middle. Maddie shook her head.

"As long as he or she is healthy and happy." She said serenely. Bella sighed wistfully before rising.

"I…I think I'd like a bit of a lie down. I'll see you all for dinner." She said, walking – no – _dancing_ out of the room.

"That was the strangest I've ever seen Bella act." Maddie observed.

"Indeed." Claire said.

"Oh!" Emmy replied. "I've been meaning to tell you…Gustave has been after me for the past day about you, Claire. In fact, he won't shut up. It's sort of annoying." Claire felt the color drain from her face.

"_Me?_"

"Yes," She said, "It's almost as if he fancies you." Once, that would have made Claire's day, but now it just made her angry. Now that everyone thought she was attractive, he wanted a go at her. Typical. Well, she'd wasted enough time on Gustave de Chagny.

He would finally know how it felt to be left out.

"Ladies!" Charles entered the room, carrying the tray of cakes. Predictably, some were missing and Claire suspected the culprit was carrying them.

"Don't eat our food, Charles!" Claire hissed playfully. He stuck his tongue out at her and stole another, winking at Emmy.

"Surviving another monotonous tea with the Destler girls, Em?"

Emmy of course, couldn't speak due to her shyness and most likely the fact that she and Claire had discussed Chloe and him earlier. Claire had her suspicions about her brother and Chloe Blanchard, but she wouldn't ever voice them aloud. Charles sat beside Emmy on the loveseat.

"So what is the topic at this _lovely_ tea party?"

"You're not invited." Maddie teased lightly, sipping her tea. Charles clutched his chest.

"You wound me Madeleine. Little sister."

"It's astounding that I am your little sister and yet, I am married and very nearly a mother." She looked toward her middle. Charles grinned.

"How is the little bugger cooking?"

"Very actively. I don't sleep. Ever." She laughed. "Adam is at his wits end with me."

"Poor devil." Charles laughed. "Did you hear Roger and the Daroga are coming?"

"No!" Maddie cried, delighted. "How lovely." Charles looked down at Emmy, who was closely inspecting her tea. A look of concern passed his face at her paleness. He looked questioningly at Claire, who shook her head, nodding toward the door.

"Charles…could you come with me a moment?" She asked. Nodding, he followed her out of the room.

"What's going on?" He whispered.

"Chloe singled her out again. She's very upset." Claire replied. Charles looked murderous for a moment.

"Damn her. Ever since I told her that Emmy was twice the girl she'd ever be, Chloe's been on a mission to make Emmy's life a living hell."

"You said that to Chloe?" Claire asked, impressed.

"Of course." He said haughtily. "She said Emmy was an idiot invalid who couldn't talk. She wants me so bad it's disgusting."

"Would you ever?"

"_Never_." Charles spat. "Once when I was drunk, I kissed her, but I made damn sure never again."

"Ugh…you touched her pig lips with yours?" Claire joked. Charles glared at her.

"You _will_ tell me if Chloe does anything else to Emmy." He commanded.

"Of course, Charles." Claire agreed.

"Good. Because if Emmy ever looks like _that _again," He gestured to the doorway. "I'll kill Chloe."

"Please don't murder anyone without consulting Dad first." Claire said. Charles grunted in irritation and walked away.

"I have work to do." He said, "I'll go find Dad."

Claire shook her head and returned to her friend and sister.


	5. Chocolate

The Marquis of Keating was dead.

Tristan Edward Coolidge was now the Marquis, and in exactly one week, he would be forced to return to England to take over his father's affairs.

He would need to start looking for a well bred bride. Tris cringed at the thought of it.

"Tristan." His mother said primly from her position near the bedside of his now deceased father.

"I shall have my valet start packing immediately." He said, hearing how void his voice sounded. The Marchioness gave a curt nod. He looked at his father's corpse one last time before fleeing the awful scene.

Tris tried to look to the future, but everything was black. He would leave his friends, his _true_ family…his unrequited love…everything that he was…and he would become someone he never wanted to be.

Worst of all, Isabella Rose Destler would never know how much he loved her.

Even worse still, it was better that way. Because if she loved him back, he knew he would never have the strength to leave.

And that scared him.

* * *

"They are here!" Esme cried, and Bella looked up from her needlework. "Roger is here!"

"Wonderful! I – Oh!" She quickly put her finger to her lips to suck on the part that was now bleeding from her pricking herself with the needle. "Remind me to stop subjecting myself to my own abuse."

Looking up from her book, Claire laughed. Bella sighed and set her needlework aside.

"Come on, let's go greet Roger and the Daroga." She gently urged Claire out of the chair and looked toward where Julienne was napping on the loveseat. Claire moved to wake her, but Bella stopped her. "Let her sleep." She said affectionately.

The sisters walked arm in arm to the downstairs parlor where Roger Khan and his uncle were standing, talking to their father. Roger heard them and turned, his golden green and brown eyes lighting up. Bella shrieked and ran forward, allowing him to lift her in an awkward hug.

"You are so grown up!" He laughed. Bella's eyes widened in surprise. In two years, Roger had grown from an awkward teenager to a handsome young man. His face had filled out and his voice was now a deep, rich velvet.

As Roger set her to her feet, her ankle rolled and she stumbled slightly. He shook his head.

"Still the same old Bella though."

"Grace apparently isn't a learned trait." Bella laughed. Claire stepped forward shyly and Roger's mouth dropped as all men's mouths dropped at the sight of Claire.

"Claire? Is that _you_?" He asked, astonished. "My goodness you are lovely." She rolled her eyes.

"Still the same old Claire, though." She said fiercely. He nodded.

"Oh…I didn't mean to…It's just….you have changed since I saw you." He stammered. A small pang of envy swept through Bella. Just once, she wanted someone to tell her how pretty she was…just once, she didn't want to hear about how endearingly clumsy she was. She wanted to be graceful and lovely like her sisters. Her entire family had been blessed with beauty and grace…she was the black sheep.

And she was so very tired of it.

Esme clung to Roger's hand and it amazed Bella how patient he was with her. He listened to her stories as if they were the most interesting thing he'd ever heard.

Perhaps someone who was in need of a wife would settle for her someday. A preacher perhaps…or an aging widower in need of a nurse.

Who would ever marry her when they could have her beautiful sisters?

"Sir?" The butler said, approaching her father.

"Yes Jean?"

"Your son and the new Lord Keating are here." Bella's father nodded.

"Send them in. I wasn't aware that the Marquis had passed." Jean nodded and Charles walked into the room, followed by Tris. Bella felt terrible for him. She remembered the pain in his eyes as he told her about his father and how he would have to go back to England.

He looked sick. His face was even paler than she remembered and his green eyes were dark. The bones in his handsome face were far too prominent and it looked as if he hadn't slept in days. His eyes passed over her, but he quickly looked away and pursed his lips.

"Hello Tris," Bella's mother said. "I am so sorry to hear of your loss."

"Thank you." He said, allowing her to take his hand. Something looked off to Bella though. Besides the fact that his father was dead, something in his eyes was missing. "I've come to tell you all that I am leaving for England next week."

Bella stared dejectedly at her brother's dearest friend. Tris was like part of the family. Without him, things wouldn't be right. And he had been so very kind to her just the other day when she'd seen him outside the Opera Populaire.

"Won't you join us for dinner?" Her mother asked Tris. He nodded dutifully.

"Of course, Mrs. Destler." He turned and caught Bella's eyes. She smiled at him, but he did not return the gesture. In fact, he looked like he was in pain. Or worse, that he was angry with her.

But what had she ever done?

He had looked away by the time she had blinked.

"Bella?" Roger's voice cut in.

"Oh." She said, remembering to breathe. "Sorry. What?"

"I asked if you might like to come with your sisters and I for a walk?"

Bella considered this, but shook her head.

"No, I think I'll stay here with my brother and Lord Keating."

"As you wish." He kissed her cheek and took Claire and Esme out of the room. Bella noticed, with alarm, that Tris was glaring at Roger as he passed. Charles elbowed Tris and asked him something. Tris retorted so low, she couldn't hear. He glanced at her one more time.

Uncomfortable, Bella went to stand near her parents. Grateful, her mother took her hand and squeezed it. Leaning over, she said, "Bella dear, do see if Tris would like anything. I'm worried for him."

"Me too." Bella agreed. She stepped toward her brother and his friend. "Tris…can I get you anything? Would you like to come and have some cocoa?" Tris swallowed, but nodded uneasily.

"Of course. That would be fine." He offered his arm and she led him to the kitchen, which was empty for the moment.

"Oh Tris, I am so sorry…I know how much you love it here." She said when they were alone.

"Life has a way of taking away everything you want." He muttered. She sat beside him at the small servant's table. Cautiously, she reached for his hand.

"Maybe it'll be a blessing. You could be a great Marquis." She was aiming for encouraging. He looked at her then and she saw such heartbreak in his eyes that her heart hurt for him.

"Bella, you truly are too sweet for you own good." He said sadly.

"Please don't call me sweet." She said, getting up and flitting about to prepare the cocoa. "It's the only compliment I ever get because people can't call me beautiful or lovely." She laughed uneasily.

"How can you honestly look in the mirror and not think you're beautiful?" He asked harshly, sounding angry now. She couldn't bring herself to look at him and tried to ignore the erratic beating of her heart.

"Tris, it's painfully obvious when I stand beside my family. I'm the one who everyone says is sweet but plain. Not exceptional." She poured milk into a pot. "You know, I can sing and play the piano, but Charles is better. I can sew and do needlepoint, but Julienne is better. And that was fine with me…but I'm so _tired_ of people _telling_ me how unexceptional I am! Just once, I want to be the best at _some_thing. I don't care what."

She stopped, realizing she was shaking. Taking a deep breath, she turned and found herself face to face with Tris. He still looked agonized.

"I can't bear it." He whispered and she felt a wave of self hatred come over her.

"Oh my…" She said, a tear slipping down her cheek. "In my selfish outburst, I forgot all about your father." She descended into tears. "I really am no good!" Covering her face with her hands, she tried to turn away in embarrassment. His hands on her shoulders stopped her. The slight sound of boiling milk brought her back to reality.

"The cocoa." She said quietly, turning back to the cocoa. She added the chocolate to it and stirred before pouring the warm, sugary liquid into two mugs. "Sit." She told Tris softly. He obliged. Carefully, she set his mug in front of him with shaking hands. "I'm so sorry." She said. He swallowed.

"I can't stand to hear you say things like that." He said, sipping at the cocoa.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"When you say you're not exceptional…when you say you're not beautiful." He scowled at her. "_Plain_. You are so blind, you can only see your flaws, which are inaccurate. And," He went on, "Charles would murder me for saying this, but if I had a choice in the matter and if things were different, I would marry you before I'd marry any of your sisters."

Bella's eyes widened, as she stared into her cocoa. When she finally willed herself to look at him, he looked as if he wanted to disappear right into the floor.

"I…Th-thank you." She said. He shrugged. Courage suddenly surged through her veins as she moved her chair closer to his. He looked terrified. "Could I ask you a favor in light of your ever so kind confession?"

"Anything, Bella." He said sincerely. She smiled.

"I know you were just saying that to be nice, but would you kiss me?"

Tris choked on his cocoa.

"_What?_"

Biting her lip, she repeated herself.

"I asked if you would kiss me. I've never been."

"Bella, if Charles found out…if your _father_ ever found out." He buried his face in his hands. "Oh _God…_"

"They won't." She assured him, hearing the faint laughter from the parlor across the house.

"But if they did…"

"_Please…_" She said desperately, unable to bear the rejection. A heavy sigh left him.

"Bella…" He moaned. Bolder still, she stood so that she was looking down at him. Fear was prominent in his dark emerald eyes.

She took his hand gingerly and played with the fingers. The perfectly manicured nails and the smoothness of his skin. Then, to her own surprise, she sat carefully in his lap.

"Bella, _please…_" He begged, staying perfectly still.

"If you don't want to kiss me, just tell me." She said. "I'll leave you alone."

His hands came up and rested gently on either of her arms.

"It's not that I don't want to…" His voice sounded apologetic. "I don't…" He breathed.

"Just one little kiss? I'm not asking you to ravish me. I mean, a kiss is just two people pressing their lips together, right?"

"You are so naïve, Bella." He said, but he gave her half a smile. One of his hands came up to brush a chocolate colored lock from her face. She felt his fingertips on her cheek and she knew she'd won the battle. He leaned up slowly and she closed her eyes, now afraid and exhilarated all at once.

The first thing she felt was a soft, velvety, quick brush against her lips. Then she heard his ragged sigh. His lips touched hers again, this time more firmly. They stayed there, touching and retouching her lips, but never deepening the kiss. Remembering something Maddie had told her about kissing, Bella tentatively touched Tris's lower lip with her tongue. A long groan left his throat as his other hand moved to entwine in her hair. She must have done something right, because his lips parted only slightly and she felt the silky wetness of his tongue. To her horror, a tiny sound like a mewl left her throat and she followed suit, twining her fingers into his rusty hair. She wanted to get closer, to feel his warmth, but before she could, he gently pushed her away and looked up into her face.

"I'm sorry." She said.

"I'm not." He said, sounding somewhat content. Lightly, he brushed his fingertips through her hair. "Thank you for giving me something to remember when I'm alone in England."

"I don't want you to go." She heard herself say. It was as if she were watching herself act stupidly and say idiotic things from outside her body.

"I have to, sweetheart."

Bella blushed at the endearment. With a small sigh of resignation, he stood up with her and set her on her feet. He pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her forehead and smiled slightly.

"Thank you for the cocoa." He said, and with that, he left the room. Bella's arms wrapped around herself in a protective embrace. Her head was spinning.

* * *

Gustave de Chagny was having a terrible day. His mother had subjected him to a dinner party with the Blanchard family in the hopes that he would take an interest in Chloe.

She was a cow.

Chloe had stuffed her plump, overly developed body into a dress that was at least two sizes too small for her.

He was seated beside her, thanks to his mother's administrations. She'd warned him that he was to be on his best behavior. He'd agreed, but he knew that he would never marry anyone like Chloe Blanchard. Especially after he'd caught her tormenting Emmy.

The evening had ended eventless, much to his mother's disappointment.

"Gustave." His mother said pleadingly.

"Mum," He replied tightly. "Why was it acceptable for Dad to choose a bride of his liking, but I must be subjected to _that?_"

"Chloe is a lovely girl." The Countess argued.

"According to whom? Charles Destler and Tris Coolidge both agree…"

"Tris is now Lord Keating." His mother reminded him. "And Charles…well, he's Erik's son." As if _that _were an ample explanation.

"Fine…the point is…Chloe is a pig faced hussy. And I'm sick of seeing her. Emmy is too."

Emmy looked up in panic.

"Don't drag me into this." She pleaded.

"No," Gustave replied. "She needs to know so she stops trying to make the two of you friends."

"What are you saying?" Christine asked, looking down at her daughter. Emmy hid her face behind her hair.

"Chloe hates Emmy. She uses every opportunity to make fun of her in public. She's gone so far as to call her an invalid."

"_What?_" Christine cried. "Is this true, Emmy?"

"Mum." Emmy begged. "Please."

"Is it?"

Emmy sighed, resigned.

"Yes."

His mother's eyes filled with tears.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" She asked, sitting beside Emmy.

"I didn't think you would believe me."

"Emmeline. You are my _daughter_." Christine put her arm around Emmy's shoulders. "I will _always_ believe you."

"I'm sorry." Emmy said, looking up at Gustave. He nervously ran a hand through his fair hair.

"No more dinners with the Blanchards. I had Jacqueline Blanchard anyway. She used to throw herself at your father."

"As if Dad would touch that woman."

Christine laughed.

"Jacqueline actually used to be quite lovely."

"Mum, she's the size of the Opera Populaire." Gustave said. Another laugh left his mother.

"You spend too much time with Charles." She said affectionately. "Speaking of which, when is he going to come for a visit?"

"Actually, he said he would come tomorrow. The Daroga and his nephew have arrived and are visiting at the Destlers, so he and Tris went over there to see them."

"Roger? I haven't seen him in so long!" Christine said happily. "We must invite him too." Gustave swallowed as he had a thought.

"Emmy, didn't you say you wanted Claire and Julienne to come too?"

Emmy stared at Gustave.

"No."

"Really? I seem to recall you saying you would like to have Claire over."

"And Julienne?" Emmy asked, a small mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Yes, her too."


	6. Cinderella and Bella

Bella stood wringing her hands at the Chagny Spring Musicale. Five days had passed since she'd thrown herself shamelessly at Tris. He hadn't returned and she feared she driven him away with her brazenness. She was so embarrassed and all she wanted to do was apologize to him. At least he hadn't told Charles on her. Because if Charles knew, then her father would find out…and she would be in trouble.

And now, he was all she thought about. She wondered why she'd never noticed before how perfectly his face was put together. Almost as if he were sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. His hair was not red, nor was it light brown. It wasn't like her mother's or her sisters' hair. He smelled like apples and cinnamon and his lips were full and soft.

In two days, he would be gone. He would have to marry and produce heirs. He was titled like Gustave de Chagny. They had obligations. Marrying the daughter of an architect did not fall into that category. Tris needed a woman who was gently bred. A woman of pristine manners and carriage. She would never falter…she would never stumble. Not one hair would ever fall out of place. Bella did not fit any of that criteria…and it was killing her.

"What are you doing out here?" Bella turned quickly to see her brother standing there. She shook her head.

"Nothing. Just enjoying the night air. It's nearly warm." She sighed and looked out off the terrace at the moon.

"You shouldn't be alone, Bell." Charles said.

"I can't stand it. Standing there and watching everyone else get asked to dance." She looked down at her lavender satin gown.

"Do you want to dance with me?" He asked.

"No." She laughed sadly. "You're my brother, Charles. How sad for me that would be. Even Chloe Blanchard is dancing…"

"Poor Jamie Westcliff." Charles said, watching the young man awkwardly hold the curvaceous girl.

"How is it that someone as universally disliked as Chloe is asked to be called on and danced with?" Bella inquired. Charles chuckled wryly.

"Because, Bella…she's easy. Men don't have to try to compromise her. She's happy to do it."

"Disgusting." Bella scowled. "You haven't…have you?"

"Once I kissed her when I was intoxicated." He laughed heartily. "But Tris got a bit more than he bargained for one night with her when we were out with friends."

"Like what?" Bella whispered, not really wanting to know the answer.

"It's not for ladies' ears to hear." He said firmly. "Come on, do you want to come back inside now?"

"No." She said quietly.

"Bella," He sounded frustrated now. "I am not leaving you alone out here…"

"I'll stay with her."

Bella was afraid to turn around, but she already knew it was Tris who had joined them.

"You try anything with her, and I'll hang you Keating."

"You have my permission to throttle me if I so much as wink at her in your presence." Charles seemed appeased by this and left after touching her shoulder.

"Hello." Tris said quietly, stepping beside her.

"Bonjour, Lord Keating." She said, trying very hard to will her heart back into a steady rhythm.

"You're angry with me." He observed and she looked at him.

"Oh no…of course I'm not!" Her face crumpled. "I wanted to…to apologize for the other day. My behavior was wanton and pathetic. I was afraid you were avoiding me because you were angry with me." He looked upward.

"Bella you astound me." He laughed. "I should have shown better judgment. You are an innocent. I acted like a green boy."

"Are all first kisses like that?" She asked, knowing she sounded like a ninny. He looked outward, away from her face.

"Mine wasn't." He said softly. "I've never…" Stopping, he smiled down at her. "Well, it hardly signifies. Nothing can come of it."

"I know." She said, trying not to sound so miserable. "But if it could…"

"You don't want me, Bella." He sounded upset. "I'm not good enough for you."

"That's not true!" She said, hurt.

"I'm a selfish scoundrel." He ran his hand through his shortly cropped hair.

"No." She said. "You're a good person, Tris…" Her eyes burned as she whispered. "I can't do this. It's too much…"

She ran into the gardens.

"Bella!"

Desperate to escape from him, she flung herself into the hedges to hide. She knew he was in close pursuit. Ducking into a small crevice she nearly had hidden herself when her stupid ankle rolled and she tumbled messily onto the ground, her skirts flying around her.

"_Bella_." Tris hissed, when he rounded the corner out of breath and saw her balled up on the ground.

"Leave me alone." She pleaded.

"Why are you upset?" He asked, kneeling beside her as she gathered her wits.

"I don't know…" She sobbed. "I don't understand it at all!" She could hear him sigh and then, she was warm as his arms gathered her in a comforting hug.

"Please don't cry, Bella." He said, stroking her long curling hair. She allowed her arms to reciprocate and twine around his torso. A slow strain of music floated down from the terrace. The moonlight provided a silvery, dreamlike light. "Dance with me…" He whispered. He stood and offered her his hand. Without hesitation, she took it and stood. He placed her arms around his waist and wrapped her in a sort of embrace. Easily he rocked back and forth with her on his feet. She let her cheek rest against his chest and she could hear the distant thudding of his heart through his clothes. Closing her eyes she reveled in the feel of him. "You are so beautiful…" He murmured, though she wasn't sure if she imagined it.

"I don't want you to leave." She said, pulling back.

"I have to." He replied.

"I know."

"Promise me, Bella…" He said, looking down at her. His fingers lightly held her chin up. "You must promise me that you won't settle for anyone. Make sure you'll be happy…make sure you love him." Bending slightly, he pressed his lips to hers again. This time, she wasn't giving him a chance to pull away. Her arms snaked around his neck and he lifted her easily, moving them around them.

"You won't forget me…" He rasped between kissing her. "I'll never forget you, Bella…"

"Never." She vowed. "I feel like I only just found you and now, I'm losing you."

"Four years." He admitted. "Four years I've waited to do this."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, her brown eyes wide.

"I couldn't. I didn't want to hurt you."

"But I am hurt." She protested. "This is _crazy_. We've known each other forever! Why do things have to change now?"

"I'll always think of you, Bella." He said, swallowing and setting her down. Kissing her once more, he pressed another to her forehead. "You are," He kissed her hand. "The most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

When he took her back into the ballroom, she turned to look at him once more, but he was gone. And she knew she wasn't going to see him again.

* * *

**Moments earlier**

Claire was enjoying her punch. It was delicious. Not too sweet, but not bitter in the least. Her silky black hair was pulled back and braided throughout. A hand on her shoulder made her nearly drop her drink. She turned to see Tris smirking at her.

"Hello."

"Good Lord, you scared me Tris…er…Lord Keating."

"Where is your sister?" He asked, looking worried. She raised an eyebrow.

"Which one? I have four." She laughed.

"Bella." He replied. Confusion filled her, but she nodded toward the door.

"Oh, she went out for some air. Charles just went to fetch her."

"Thank you, Claire." He said and walked away. She watched him in wonder until she noticed she was not alone.

"Miss Destler."

Gustave de Chagny's looks had only improved with age. His golden hair was long now, to his shoulder and his eyes were light blue. His shoulders had broadened and his lips shaped into a perfect heart. He _still _made her heart flutter after all this time. And she hated him for it.

"My lord." She said respectfully.

"Would you care for a dance?"

"Not especially, no." She said, determined to fight her heart. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to get over the Vicomte.

"Just one couldn't hurt." He insisted with a smile. His teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white.

"My feet are hurting me." She insisted.

"Have I offended you in some way?" Gustave asked cautiously.

"No, of course not." She said coolly. Her eyes narrowed at him. "I just don't understand this sudden interest in my friendship. You never tried before."

"It was different before…" He said quietly. "You were different before."

"No, I wasn't." She retorted. "You just never looked."

"I should have." He agreed.

"Well, my lord, it seems to be too little, too late." She stalked away from him, as the music slowed. He caught up with her and took her hand.

"I'm sorry." He said breathlessly. "I was a selfish fool. But I just think you should dance with me."

"Tenacious as ever, Monsieur le Vicomte." She replied, unable to suppress a smile.

"One waltz?"

"If you must." She agreed, following him onto the dance floor against her conscience. Spinning easily, she fell into step with him perfectly. Gliding…no. Floating is what this felt like. He was nimble on his feet and it was as perfect as anything she'd ever dreamed. Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her and set her down as if he'd been born to do it.

But it wasn't genuine. He only wanted her now for the novelty of it. She was attractive and men actually paid her attention. It was the thrill of the chase…_she_ had nothing to do with it. He didn't even know her.

"People are staring." She said stoically.

"Let them." He said, grinning down at her. "You're quite a sight to behold." Her smile left.

"That's not all there is to me, Gustave." She said in irritation.

"Of course not!" He agreed.

"I'm so tired of it. People leering at me. There's more to me…it's not what I want to be known for. There's always been more to me."

"You're not like other girls." He mused.

"What do you mean?" She asked defensively.

"Most girls want to hear how pretty they are."

"I'm not most girls…

" Claire said, as the music stopped. "Do you want to know what I really want?" He nodded. "All I want is to be loved for _me_. Without conditions…without bias."

"Really? I have to say, Claire…I am impressed, and I think – damn!" Claire noticed his eyes drift across the room. Emmy was cornered by Chloe and her two friends. She looked pale. "I should go…"

"I'm coming too." Claire said, dragging him by the hand across the room, uncaring who saw.

* * *

Charles stood by his mother, who was in the process of trying to initiate a dance between he and Darya Westcliff with Madame Westcliff.

"Roxana, I think that Charles and Darya would get along wonderfully –"

"I'm not interested." He cut her off.

"Charles!' Evie cried in horror. He looked apologetically at Darya.

"Not that you aren't lovely, Mademoiselle, I…"

"It's alright, Charles." Darya laughed. "I've known you since we were ten. It's awkward."

"Right, I must go find…"

"Why is Claire dragging the Vicomte across the room?" Evie asked her son. He turned to look and sure enough his sister was headed right for…

_Oh no. _

Emmy was cornered by Chloe and two other girls who were laughing in her face. He began to move toward her, unable to think of anything other than rescue. He reached them before Claire did.

"…I can smell you from here, Emmy. Why do you think, no men will touch you? And if I see you even look at Charles Destler again –"

"You'll know she's looking at the right man." Charles finished for her. Chloe jumped about a mile. "And if I ever see you within ten feet of Emmy again, I'll tell everyone just how ugly you are. You'll never measure up to Emmy…no matter how hard you try." He pushed past Chloe and her friend, extending his hand to her. "Emmy? May I have this dance?"

Then, she smiled. It was the most beautiful smile he'd ever laid eyes upon. She was an exact replica of her mother. And he could feel the strands of fate tying him to her, pulling him like a gravitational pull.

"Charles?" She asked shyly.

"Yes?" He held her expertly, twirling her agile little body.

"Will you teach me how to sing?"

Now he beamed down at her.

Fate.

* * *

Claire looked down at her hand, which was still entwined with Gustave's and let go.

"I have to leave." She said, running from him. Panic coursing through her mind. She couldn't remain this way. Stunted because of him. She couldn't always love him.

"Claire, don't!"

"I can't!" She cried, frantically nearing the entrance. The clock began to chime. She ran up the stairs as fast as she could in her too big slippers.

"Claire! I need to say something!"

Unhearing, she felt one of her shoes slide off and kept running until she found Bella climbing into one of their carriages. She dove in with her.

"Claire?" Bella asked.

"Let's go home." She said, panting. "I have to get out of here."

"Oh." Claire looked and noticed Bella's eyes were swollen. "Can you take us home, Luc?" Bella asked the driver.

"Have you been crying?" She asked, ignoring Gustave's voice as they pulled away.

"A bit." Bella agreed.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Claire asked. Bella shook her head.

"What about you? Do you want to tell me why you're running?" She asked.

"No." Claire affirmed.

The sisters took each other's hands and smiled.

* * *

Gustave watched Claire's carriage disappear into the night and stopped running.

What was it that was drawing him to her now? Why was it as if he'd finally awoken after all this time, when she'd always been there? Why hadn't he noticed her before?

Tiredly, he turned to go back into the house and back to the musicale. The party had gone on as if nothing had happened. He walked half slumped down the stairs again and noticed something glitter out of the corner of his eye.

Looking down, he saw a jeweled slipper sitting perfectly upright on the stair.

He bent to pick it up and began to laugh ruefully.

His life was turning into some godawful fairytale that he couldn't get out of.

And Cinderella hated the Prince.


	7. Things Children Say

Spring was upon them, Charles noted with a grin as he walked outside and found, pleasingly, that he did not need a jacket. Emmy would be arriving any moment for her first singing lesson with him and he was, well…nervous. Not that he didn't think he could teach her. He'd had a hand in all of his sisters' practicing, but this girl was the first girl who wasn't related to him. And so many women were related to him it was hard to tell who belonged to whom. He had five sisters, eight female cousins and four aunts. All in all, he was buried in women.

Charles had always been a bit spoiled, as he had been the first born and eventually, the only son. His father indeed treasured all of his daughters, but Charles thought secretly, he was relieved to have had one son to relate to. His entire family was extremely close knit, and he felt lucky to have such supportive and wonderful parents. His parents weren't stupid. They surrounded themselves by people who were wonderful and trustworthy rather than who were beneficial to social climbing, like the Blanchards.

It was rumored that Jacqueline Blanchard had once been a great beauty, but her current physical appearance bore no evidence to that effect. Her daughter too, could be beautiful, if she weren't such a bitch. Charles cringed, remembering the time he'd gotten drunk and had allowed himself to give in to her desperate affections. Thankfully, he hadn't gone too far with her before he'd sobered up a bit and realized his mistake. Ever since then, she'd been after Emmy with a vengeance since he'd let slip that Emmy was ten times the woman she would ever be.

And she was.

Not that he saw her in that way…Good God! Emmeline de Chagny was like a _sister_ to him. It was nearly incestuous! But she was a very pretty girl and it more than surprised him that she hadn't yet been proposed to. Especially since her father was so prominent in Parisian society. Lotte had been snatched up nearly the moment she entered society. Gustave was probably the most sought after bachelor in Paris. And Emmy was nearly an exact clone of her mother in looks and in personality.

The knock on his door told him that she had arrived. He had no servants but for a cook and a housekeeper, so he answered the door himself. She was windblown and her eyes were wide with a mixture of what seemed to be excitement and frustration.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" She exclaimed, sounding out of breath.

"Oh…that's fine, I don't-" She was trying to get her arm out of her coat and was not succeeding very well. He had to hide a smirk. "Here." He said, pulling the coat off easily and laying it across the railing.

"Thank you." She said, catching her breath. "Your cousins are very talkative."

"Ah." Charles replied knowingly, shutting the front door. "The Holdens?" She nodded.

"And Gabrielle was there too!"

"Oh!" He said, thoroughly amused, "A LaSalle thrown in as well. None of my sisters?"

"No…" Emmy answered thoughtfully. "Your aunt said that your mother and the girls were going to Maddie's. She hasn't been feeling well and she thought they might keep her company today while Adam is working."

"Oh right." He chuckled. "I forgot that Maddie is a continent at the moment."

"Your cousins are all betting on the baby. They're sure it's a girl."

"They'd have to be in this family." He muttered, ushering her into the parlor where his piano sat. Closing the door behind them, he gestured to the sofa. "Make yourself comfortable, Em." He said, running a hand through his thick hair. "Thirsty?"

"No." She said in a small voice. "Of course you know that nobody can know we're doing this…it's so improper. I mean…alone in your home and without a chaperone."

"Do I look like the type who would go blabbing to the public?" He laughed. "I would never try anything with you Emmy. You have nothing to worry about."

"Oh, _I_ know that…but Daddy and Gustave…"

"I understand. My Dad and I are the same way about my sisters." Charles sat at the piano bench and cracked his knuckles. Emmy looked anxious but eager. "Lets start with the basics…breathing first…" He got up and pulled her to her feet. Turning her away from him, he placed his hand on her middle. "I'm not trying anything…this is to ensure you are breathing correctly before you sing."

"Right." Emmy said, but it sounded like she was still out of breath. Charles looked skyward. _Women._

"In through the nose, out through the mouth. Push from the middle, not the shoulders." Emmy tried it a few times and turned to him.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Yes. I think you've got it." He agreed, letting go of her. Swallowing a smirk, he noticed she looked somewhat disappointed. "Now Emmy, scales."

* * *

"…And I mean, I can't very well like Simon while I'm seeing James and it's all very complicated because James is so very sweet and handsome, but I just can't _help _myself when I see Simon lately…"

Claire made some noise of acknowledgement so that her sister wouldn't ask her anything. Julienne, however did not like to be ignored.

"Claire!" She moaned. "Are you even listening?"

"Of course." Claire replied moodily. "Something, something, something…Simon…something…James…something, something…"

"Cla-_aire_!" Julienne whined. "You're not helping!"

"Jules…you're seventeen years old. Either tell one to get lost or the other…" Claire offered.

"But Simon doesn't even know that I…" Her voice dropped, "That I _harbor_ affections for him!"

Claire put her hands to her face in feigned terror.

"No! The horror!" She cried. Julienne smacked her arm.

"Oh piss on you and your foul attitude." Julienne got up and stalked out of the room with a melodramatic sigh. Claire stifled a giggle as Bella passed Jules and looked after her.

"What was that about?" Bella asked, looking amused.

"Oh, Jules is just obsessed with boys…and I wasn't hanging on her every word."

"Claire…" Bella scolded, "Julienne is still young…she wants so very much to be loved."

"I know it." Claire scowled. "Men are _not _worth the trouble sometimes though."

"Hmm." Bella said thoughtfully. "I think everyone out there is worth the trouble."

"That's your problem, Bells…you're too nice." Claire said, getting up.

"Maybe…but I'd rather be too nice than a shrew." Bella gave Claire a pointed look and linked arms with hers. "You've become bitter lately Claire-Bear…and I don't know why. But I hope things perk up for you, dear."

"Thanks." Claire said with a sigh.

"Come on…I think Mama wanted us all to come upstairs before we say goodbye to Maddie."

Their mother was sitting on Maddie's bed laughing with her while Julienne sulked nearby and Esme sat on the other side of Maddie. Maddie was gently petting Esme's coppery hair, playing with the long ringlets. Evangeline looked up and smiled at them.

"Would you like us to come tomorrow too, Maddie?" Evie asked her daughter. Maddie shook her head.

"No…I'll be fine. I don't want you all wasting your days bored in my house while I wait to pop." Maddie laughed. Bella perched on the bottom of the bed and Claire hung back, near the door. "Could you just help me to sit up…I feel slouched."

"Of course." Evie replied. Bella moved to help pull Maddie into a sitting position. Claire watched Maddie's face turn white and her mouth form into an "O" shape.

"Oh dear." Maddie said quietly.

"What's the matter?" Bella asked.

"I…damn. My water just broke." Maddie looked embarrassed, of all things!

"Oh!" Their mother stood and placed a pillow at her back for more support. "Not to worry, love, it's going to be a while before the baby comes…but you are in labor, to be sure. Have you been having contractions?"

"Just here and there. Nothing to speak of." Maddie grunted with the onset of another. "That one was a bit worse." She said. Evie calmly got up and walked to ring for a butler.

"Yes Madame?" He must have been close by.

"Monsieur, will you please call Adam's office and tell him that his wife is in labor and then call the doctor?" Claire grinned. The invention of the telephone had become the most useful little thing lately.

"Absolutely, Madame Destler. Madame Stratton, is there anything you need?" He asked Maddie.

"No, thank you Frederic."

Evie looked troubled.

"I should call your father's office." She said. Maddie sighed.

"Mama, don't…he's at work." Evie bit her lip.

"Yes well, I don't want to incur his wrath at not being informed." Maddie's eyes filled with recognition.

"Alright. Call him then." Evie nodded and looked at Bella.

"Stay right here, all of you. Esme…behave." Esme nodded, looking a bit hurt.

"I'm ten…not two." She protested. Evie walked past Claire and patted her shoulder.

"Watch her like a hawk."

* * *

"Yes, is Monsieur Destler there?" Evie asked into the phone.

"He's in his office with a client right now…" The clerk replied. "Who is this please?"

"His wife." Evie muttered dryly.

"Oh! Madame Destler! So sorry! I'll get him on the line."

"_Thank_ you." Evie tried to reign in her irritation when Erik's sharp voice came on the line.

"Evangeline?"

"Erik," She breathed in relief. "You know I would never bother you, but Madeleine is in labor and I think you and Charles—"

"Charles took the day off today." He interrupted.

"Who is it?" A female voice asked from the background. Evie's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's my wife." Erik said curtly. "Evie, I'm leaving now. I'll pick up Adam on the way."

"Fine." Evie said angrily, hanging up before he could say anything else. Tears blurred her vision. She knew men had affairs. And she knew Erik was a man of carnal tastes. "Ugh!" She sat on a settee and wiped her eyes. Maybe she wasn't as slim as she once was. Maybe her hair had faded and there were a few silver streaks, and perhaps her skin was no longer porcelain. But in no way did she look her age. And after six children, she still was exceptionally thin. Curvier yes, but thin.

"Madame?" Frederic's voice cut into her thoughts. She quickly and discreetly tried to wipe her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright for you?" He asked. Evie nodded.

"Just perfect. Never better. I must get back to my daughter." She walked past him, trying to ignore the pang of devastation in her chest.

* * *

Bella sat in Maddie's parlor after hours of waiting. Esme was asleep in her lap. Her mother sat on a sofa wringing her hands, while her father paced. It was all very strange, since she'd never seen her parents be anything but attached at the hip. It was almost as if they were…_angry_ at each other. Esme stirred, but didn't wake. Bella stroked her hair and let her thoughts wander. She thought of poor Monsieur Belgrave and Jane and Claude. She thought of poor Tris, entrapped in England far away from all of his friends. And she thought of Claire…who was so unhappy and she didn't know why.

_What do I want?_

Tris.

No. Bella remedied. He was just the only person that had ever shown any interest in her. And he was a rake, so it didn't count.

Oh, Bella did adore Tris. But not in a romantic way. All of the Destlers adored Tris.

Right?

Poor Tris.

"It's a girl." Adam had come into the room with a stupid grin on his face. Bella gently nudged Esme awake. Evie had stood up, her cheeks flushed. Still, her parents did not embrace as they normally would have. It unsettled her.

"We're naming her Olivia. For my mother…" Adam said, looking sad. Adam hadn't seen his parents in nearly a year since they lived in America.

"I think that's a lovely idea." Evie assured him, giving her husband a pointed look. Bella frowned, seeing her father look sheepish. Guilty almost.

* * *

"Evie, what is all this nonsense?" Erik asked after they'd gotten home and the girls had gone off to bed.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She replied coldly, sitting up in bed in her dressing gown and pretending to read a novel.

"You've been cold all evening and I don't know what I did to deserve it." He replied, ripping his shirt off and tossing it aside.

"Well, I'm sorry that I am not as beautiful as I used to be…and I'm sorry that I'm not twenty-four anymore…or that I have four girls to run after every day now…" Her voice broke, "…and that we can't have sex on every available surface anymore, but this is who I am. And if you're not happy with it…"

"Evie, what the hell are you talking about?" He asked, sitting on her side of the bed. She sniffled.

"I heard that woman in your office today!" Evie blurted.

"Woman?" He stopped. "Is that why you hung up the telephone?" She nodded.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt." She spat. His eyes blurred with anger.

"Evangeline Lanie Lambourne!" She flinched at his use of her maiden name. "How _dare_ you accuse me of being an adulterer!"

"Well what are you then?" She asked, looking confused.

"Well…it was the Duchess of Easton from Kent. She wants me to build her a new estate since hers burned to the ground not a month ago!"

"Oh…I had read about that." Evie replied quietly.

"Yes." He growled at her. "She told me if I designed and built it for her that she would help me to open another branch in London…" He gritted his teeth. "Do you know how much more money we would be bringing in from England?"

"Oh my…"

"And she offered to trade me a thoroughbred pony at no extra charge for Esme. She wanted to learn how to ride!" He shook his head. "How _could_ you ever think that I would stray?"

Evie stared at him with big, teary eyes.

"Well I don't…I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't think." He said, holding both of her arms. "Because how could I even think of anyone else when you've given me six children, a _grandchild_, and numerous nieces and nephews? You gave me a family…Evangeline, you saved me from _death_."

"Well when you put it like that." Evie replied.

"Promise me something, Evangeline." He said, entwining his hands with hers.

"Alright." She agreed.

"Next time you want to jump to conclusions, ask first please." He said. As she nodded, he kissed her with such fervor, she was surprised at her own pleasant reaction. "Oh, and I think the children make this more interesting. There's always the chance of being caught." He grinned against her neck. "It sort of makes things…dangerous, doesn't it?"

She didn't have a response.

* * *

"Good morning…" Erik said to his son as he entered the office.

"Mmpf." Charles said grumpily, feeling beyond tired.

"You have a niece." His father said simply, sitting opposite him. Instantly, he perked up.

"Surprised?" He asked his dad with his eyebrow raised. Erik shook his head with a laugh. "Well, you're certainly chipper this morning Dad."

"Who wouldn't be? It's a lovely day…I've got a new granddaughter and a loving family."

"Stop it. You're scaring me." Charles quipped. "What's her name?"

"Olivia Marguerite."

"Pretty." Charles said, thinking he would stop over Maddie's after work and see the tot. He hadn't realized that giving someone singing lessons would be so exhausting.

"Oh she is. Beautiful. Looks just like her mother. Red hair and all."

"Well, she was bound to. Adam is blond and we know who carries the dominant genes." Charles replied.

"We have a new account. A large one to be sure." Erik went on, moving to business matters. Charles took the file from his father.

"The Duchess of Easton? England?" Erik nodded. "How long would we be there?"

"I will stay until construction begins. I would advise you to stay to oversee the construction."

"Tris is there. It could be good fun." Charles mused, but his mood blackened remembering he had agreed to teach Emmeline to sing. "When?"

"We would be leaving in two weeks."

"Perfect." Charles said. "Sounds good."

* * *

Bella sat, half asleep in a chair with little Claude curled up on her lap. Jane was looking out the window at the gloomy, rain soaked, humid day. They had been waiting for hours for Monsieur Belgrave to emerge from the death room.

The children's mother had taken a turn for the worse in the night and the children had no idea what was happening with her. They had been kept from the room as to prevent infections. From what the servants were saying, however, Bella had gathered that Madame Belgrave was not so much physically ill, but she was ill in the head. The housekeeper had gladly turned over the information that since Claude had been born, she had been deeply depressed and had tried to kill herself at least twice in the past five years. The first time had been poison, but she hadn't gotten enough to kill herself before her husband had stopped her. The second time she had tried to jump off of her bedroom balcony.

This third time, she had swallowed the poison directly and it had not killed her but ruined her body and health. Slowly she had been unable to fend off illness and now finally, she was succumbing to death. And her poor children would have to live without a mother. She clutched Claude's tiny, warm body to her and wondered how any mother could want to be away from these cherubic, lovely children.

"Maman…" Claude murmured. Bella shifted so he could be more comfortable.

"Shhh…it's alright." She said, noticing Jane sigh heavily. "Janey?"

"She's gone." Jane said dryly.

"What?" Bella asked, feeling something close to panic.

"Maman. She's gone."

"She's not, yet…she's…"

"No, she is." Jane said, looking pained. "I can't feel her anymore."

_Oh the things children say…_

The door opened. Their father walked in wan and tired looking.

"She's gone." He said. Bella rose and set Claude, who was awake on his feet and let the children run to their father. Monsieur Belgrave looked at Bella.

"Could you stay longer today Bella? I'll need to deal with this." Bella nodded, looking at the ground. She could feel his eyes linger on her.

_Stop imagining things! He just lost his wife!_

So why didn't he look sad?


	8. April

"Have a seat, Bella." Monsieur Belgrave said tiredly, sitting behind his desk in his study. Bella sat promptly, studying him and wondering why it was that she felt so uneasy.

"Monsieur Belgrave…"

"Bella, you've been working for us for two years now," He said, holding his temple. "Please call me Gaston."

"Gaston." Bella said softly. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." He said gravely. "Marietta has been unhappy for years. This was what she wanted. I never was good enough for her."

Bella felt like someone who had heard something she shouldn't have, so she didn't respond. He laughed.

"Our parents arranged the marriage. Combine the family businesses and whatnot. She was in love with someone else…"

"Sir." Bella pleaded. "I'm _sure _this is improper." He looked up at her with a small, bitter smile.

"Quite right you are." He said. "But while we're being improper, let's have a drink, shall we? Would you like some Brandy?"

"N-No! Of course not." Bella said, horrified. He shrugged and sat across from her, pouring himself some of the sweet liquor.

"I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for you Bella." He said. "I don't know how the children…" Bella heard the pain in his voice and looked across at a tired man who never had the chance to love his own wife. "Anyhow…the matter at hand." He stood and straightened. "I shall need your help with the children over the next few days for the funeral proceedings."

"Of course." She said uneasily.

"It would be easier of course, for you to stay with us in the house…"

"My father would never allow that." She cut in quickly.

"Oh, I understand, believe you me…but there is more than enough female staff here to ensure propriety. I shall not be present most of the time, but for dinners and bed." Something about the way he said "bed" made her want to cringe. Not that Monsieur Belgrave was very ugly or unappealing at all…in fact, someone like him would be an ideal catch. He was wealthy and kind and his two children were wonderful…but no! Not for her. The thought of it made her sick. He was tall, dark and handsome, but the "dark" was a bit intimidating.

Not at all like Tris, who was so light and lovely to look at. Boyish charm seemed to radiate from him and his eyes were the very color of emeralds.

Oh dear…not again! She'd let her thoughts wander at the most inopportune time.

"So will you stay for a few days?"

"Of course…but you must come to ask my father's permission." She replied, thinking of the children. "As my employer, you must ensure him that our relationship is _strictly_ platonic and that all proprieties are being observed."

"Absolutely." He nodded. "Shall we go now?"

"If you wish, sir."

"Gaston, Bella." He said again. "Call me Gaston."

"Gaston."

"So very adorable." He said with a slight chuckle. "So very proper." He seemed to be deep in thought.

"I'll just get my coat." She said, inching out of the room.

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"Erik, be reasonable." Evie pleaded.

"She is not staying in the house alone with that man." Erik replied, pacing his office. Downstairs, Bella and her employer waited for his reply.

"My God, Erik! She's twenty years old and besides…he has a full staff of servants. Not to mention, Bella will be with the children…the poor dears." Evie felt a twinge of pain at the children losing their mother.

"Yes, it's very sad, but Bella is _my _child and I don't trust that man. Not for an instant." He ran a hand through his hair. "Sweet and innocent Bella corrupted by that…_man._"

"Erik Destler." Evie said scoldingly. "That man lost his wife barely two hours ago and you accuse him of having designs on our daughter!"

"Evangeline! You are so naïve! Have you seen our daughters? They're all excruciatingly lovely…and men would be stupid not to have designs on them."

"Men like you?" She asked, a teasing note in her voice. Touching his arm, she sighed. "Erik, I know how hard it was for you when Maddie married Adam…sweetheart, she has to leave sometime. But it's only a few days."

"Bella is different, Evie." He said, looking down at her. "She's not tough like Maddie and Claire and she's not malicious. She doesn't understand how deceitful people can be."

"She is old enough to make her own mistakes, Erik." Evie smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. "I know you would like nothing more than to lock all of your girls up in a tower and never let them leave home, but Bella is grown. And we have to learn to let go. She could very well end up married within the year…whether it be to Monsieur Belgrave or anyone else."

"She would only be a replacement wife." He spat, obviously thinking of it. "Her purpose would be to raise his children and breed him new ones…"

"It's three days, Erik. She's not marrying Belgrave. Besides…he's sick with grief, I'm sure. If I died, would you be able to think of replacing me straight off?

"Evangeline, don't talk like that." He moaned.

"Well?"

"No. I would die if you went before me. I would want to curl up and die." He growled in frustration. "Fine! She can go. As long as she is staying in the room the furthest from his and telephones my office once a day."

"Fair enough." Evie leaned up to kiss him. "And you thought you didn't want children." She chuckled against his lips.

* * *

_Dear Tris, _

_Perhaps I shouldn't have written, but I couldn't help myself. I was consumed with worry for you. I am cooped up here in Belgrave Manor. The mother of the children I am governess to has passed away, so Monsieur Belgrave has asked me to stay with him for a few days to help with the children during the funeral. _

_They never loved each other he tells me…and she has been depressed since Claude's birth five years ago. It was suicide, Tris. Please tell me I will love my own children too much to kill myself and leave them. _

_Sometimes…I think he wants me. I don't know why or how I know…but I have this feeling. _

_Stupid, I know…but I still feel it. He looks at me too long and he always tries to touch me. Not in any suggestive way, of course…but I feel like a trophy he's trying to win. A replacement. _

_Maybe it would be smart for me to accept his affections…after all, it isn't as if I have suitors knocking down my door. But Monsieur Belgrave is not…_

_He is not you._

_Oh Tris…I know I shouldn't but I must say it…or write it that is…_

_I think I have silly feelings for you because you were my first kiss. But I mustn't because we could never ever be together. My blood is as red as it comes and yours apparently, is blue. So I am trying to say…I will always treasure you, but I have accepted that we can never be. Thank you for being so lovely to me and for giving me a memory to cherish always. _

_Thank you for humoring a sad girl. _

_Always your friend, _

_Isabella Rose Destler _

_P.S. My sister Maddie gave birth to a girl. Olivia Marguerite Stratton._

Bella closed the letter and sealed it to give to the housekeeper to mail. It was her second day in the house and all was perfectly quiet. The children were sleeping at last and the servants were cleaning up the dinner table. All in all, it had been a very productive two days. She decided to go look in on the children.

Tiptoeing down the hall, she stopped when she heard Monsieur Belgrave talking to one of his associates. The door was slightly cracked.

"The children like her well enough and she knows enough of the household routine where it wouldn't be intimidating…"

"She's only twenty, Gaston." The other man said.

"I'm thirty-two. It's not such a large difference." Monsieur Belgrave protested.

"Does she know of your intentions?" The man asked.

"No…I don't think so. But she would be an ideal wife. She's quiet and agreeable and with all of those sisters and cousins, no doubt she's fertile."

"You want children with her?"

"Yes…it would be ideal. And it's not as if she's unattractive." Both men laughed at this. Bella's eyes widened. Monsieur Belgrave was interested in her? As his wife?

Why was she shocked? Many widowed men married their governesses. It was convenient. It was easy. But to hear it spoken about so bluntly…it unnerved her. She wasn't ready to think about things like this when Madame Belgrave had barely been gone a week. It made her glad that she was returning home the following evening. She had a sudden need for the comfort of her parents. Hugging her arms around herself, she returned to the guest room and locked the door behind her, wishing that she wasn't alone.

* * *

Tris looked up from his desk at his estate in Kent. His butler was holding the mail. He gestured for him to put the mail in front of him. Irritated, he weeded through the letters. Invitation…invitation…love note…invitation…letter…the name on the letter caught his eye. _Destler._ It was from Charles. He hadn't heard from him since the move and his spirits perked up slightly. Opening it, he realized with horror that the penmanship was too feminine to be Charles.

_Dear Tris, _

_I know I shouldn't have written, but I couldn't help myself…_

He looked away for a moment, hurting. He read on and stopped abruptly.

_He looks at me too long and he always tries to touch me. Not in any suggestive way, of course…but I feel like a trophy he's trying to win. A replacement._

No, no, no, no! Tris tried to control the rage he was beginning to feel at the thought of Gaston Belgrave touching his Bella.

Sweet Lord, did he just think that? _His?_ What claim did he have over her? He could offer her nothing and so she could never be his. But she didn't deserve _that!_ She deserved to be in love…unconditionally. Not a replacement breeder!

He would write to Charles, he would…

_Monsieur Belgrave is not…_

_He is not you._

He composed himself long enough to finish the letter.

_Thank you for humoring a sad girl. _

"If only you knew, Bella. If only you knew how I treasured "humoring" you." He said bitterly, tossing the letter aside.

"My Lord?" His butler was still in the room. Good God. Tris tried to save face and found another letter with the Destler seal. He recognized Charles's neat scrawl immediately.

_Tris, _

_Dad and I are going to be in England in a fortnight for business. Hope they haven't killed you over there old boy. _

_Charles. _

Typical Charles. Straight to the point. Tris would have laughed if he weren't so upset. He set Charles's note aside and picked up Bella's letter again.

Then he reached for a piece of parchment.

* * *

Bella waited anxiously in the parlor for Monsieur Belgrave. He'd asked her to meet with him before she left and knowing why, she felt like there were a million birds in her stomach desperately trying to fly out. Her long, mahogany hair was set in a neat plait down her back and she wore a demure yellow dress.

The children were on an errand with their Aunt, Madame Belgrave's sister, and her own children, so the house was extremely quiet. Monsieur Belgrave entered the room and sat across from her. His eyes didn't look calculating or unkind. In fact, he looked worn and emotionally exhausted.

"Bella, thank you again for staying with us this week. I don't know what I would have done without you here."

"Oh…" She tried to smile. "You're welcome. Jane and Claude are like family to me."

He grinned at this and sat back, crossing his legs.

"You know, it makes me very happy to hear you say that because I'd like to discuss something with you…"

_Oh no._

"Oh?" She asked, pretending to not know a thing.

"Yes…well, Jane and Claude are still at very impressionable ages. I worry about them without a mother and I worry about this household without a wife to run it…" He sighed and looked her in the eyes. "Forgive me, but I am going to be blunt…" Her eyes widened. "I would like to propose that you and I marry."

She dropped her reticule, even though she'd known he was going to say it.

"Oh…oh dear!" She said, trying to pick up the few things she'd had in it. He handed her the small, framed miniature that she'd dropped. She quickly stuffed it back into her bag.

"You want to marry me?" She asked him.

"I think we'd suit well. You get on great with the children and you know the house. And of course, when you're ready, I'd give you children of your own."

She had to admit, the idea did sound appealing and she'd never noticed just how good looking Gaston Belgrave was before. He was tall, but not too tall…his hair was a rich ebony color and his eyes were a pale, cadet blue. A few weeks ago, Bella may have jumped at the offer, but now…her mind was flooded with dreams of someone else. And it wouldn't be fair to enter into a marriage with Gaston Belgrave if she was thinking of someone else.

_Someone else who may very well be getting married very soon to another girl._

"I am so flattered…really…" She heard herself say. "And I thank you so much for thinking of me…but I will need to consider this. I can't accept you at this time. Would you be willing to let me think about it?"

"Of course." He said, looking a bit relieved and satisfied. "May I escort you to your carriage?"

"Absolutely." She agreed and took his arm.

* * *

Erik stood near his bed while Evie and Esme chattered on about Olivia, their new granddaughter. The adorable child had stolen the hearts of everyone in the family, especially Esme. The thought of being an Aunt, made Esme feel grown up and important. Erik grinned as he watched his beautiful copper haired ten year old giggle while her mother brushed her hair.

"Dad?" Esme asked suddenly.

"Mmm?"

"When is Bella going to be home? She hasn't been here to read to me all week."

Erik inwardly scowled, remembering his third child had been staying in a house with a man all week.

"She'd better be home within the quarter hour if Belgrave knows what's good for him." Erik muttered. Evie laughed.

"Oh come on then…Bella is nearly twenty."

"A child, Evangeline. She's only a girl… and Belgrave…"

"Gaston Belgrave is thirty-two. It's less of an age difference than there had been between you and I."

"Hmmpf." Erik mumbled and Esme chuckled. There was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Come in!" Evie called, knowing obviously that it was one of their children. The door opened to reveal Bella, looking flushed and innocent as ever. Erik sighed in relief as she flung herself toward them. He caught her first.

"Oh, Dad!" She cried, burying her face in his shirt. Alarm spread through him. Something was amiss. Not obviously…of course, but there was something in her eyes that betrayed her. She moved on to Evie and then Esme, gripping her in a crushing hug.

"I missed you the most!" Bella said to her sister. Esme laughed.

"No, I missed you the most! It's _boring_ here without you!" She exclaimed.

"I'm sorry…" Bella's eyes met Erik's. "Dad? Could we talk?" Erik looked at Evie, who hid her worry well. She nodded slightly at him, but her eyes said that he'd better tell her everything later. He silently agreed and followed Bella into his study.

"What's the matter Bells?" He asked, leaning against the desk. She wrung her hands.

"Dad…I want to come to England with you and Charles."

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"I need to get away for a while and I really want to go to England. I want to visit Lotte and Aunt Bianca and Uncle Ansel…and go dress shopping and just get away from Paris for a while."

Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Isabella…did something happen at Belgrave's?"

"No!" She cried, too quickly. "Well, nothing that you're thinking of. Please, Dad." Her big brown eyes were welling up already and Erik felt his resolve crumbling.

"What about chaperones?"

"Dad, since when do Destler girls have chaperones?"

"Bella, they're more proper over there." He reminded her.

"Well, Aunt Bianca and Gabrielle are there and the boys."

"You really want to come, don't you?" He asked in surprise.

"Yes…I need to get away."

"Well, at least Charles and I will be with you…but during the day when we are working, you need to stay with Bianca and Gabrielle."

"So, I can come?" Bella asked hesitantly. Erik nodded, sighing. Bella lurched forward and engulfed him in another embrace. "Thanks Dad. You're the greatest."

"So I'm told." He said dryly, kissing her forehead.

* * *

BEWARE: Twists and turns ahead.

Syd


	9. Bittersweet and Strange

Claire was humming to herself as she walked down the street. It was a sunny day and it was finally warm outside. Her cousin Lillian and her sister Julienne were with her and they had just come from tea at the Holden household.

"Claire!" Julienne let out a pained squeak.

"What's wrong?" Lillian asked.

"Oh no…Simon Reynolds and James Westcliff…together in one place." Claire looked to where the two young men stood together with Gustave near the dressmaker.

"They _are _best friends, Jules." Claire pointed out. "What ever happened with James?"

"I told him we should just remain friends."

"Was he angry?" Lillian asked, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.

"No…quite the contrary actually…he seemed…relieved." Julienne pouted.

"God, I'm surprised he could even grace us with his presence." Lillian said. "James Westcliff is a pain in the—"

"Why the devil are they loitering outside a dress shop?" Claire asked, striding aggressively toward them.

"Claire, don't!" Julienne cried. Lillian laughed. Simon raised an interested eyebrow in Julienne's direction and half smiled. Claire didn't have to look back to know her sister was a deep shade of pink.

"Claire!" Gustave said quickly, all color leaving his face. "What brings you here?"

"What brings _you_ here?" She asked accusingly.

"My sister and mother are buying some things. Emmy is attending the opera gala this weekend. She insisted on a new dress." He explained. Claire looked at Jules.

"Emmy never cares about what she wears…" She said quietly. Lillian bit her lip.

"There must be a boy."

"Does it always have to be romantic with you girls?" James asked arrogantly. Lillian bestowed on him a death glare.

"What would _you_ know about romance?" Lillian shot at him. Claire snickered. The two had always bickered since the day they'd met when they were children. They didn't hate each other, but their friendship thrived on fighting and neither would ever admit that they were actually quite a bit like the other.

"How many beaus do _you_ have Lily?" He asked. Lillian grimaced.

"Don't call me Lily…I hate that."

"I know." He grinned at her. A small growl came from her as she reached out a punch him ineffectively in the arm. Simon leaned towards Julienne.

"Are they always like this?"

"Worse, usually." She said nervously with a laugh. Simon grinned.

"Are you going to the gala?" Gustave asked Claire, who sighed.

"Well, Dad, Charles and Bella are leaving for England tonight, so I doubt it." Claire said. "Those galas are so boring lately and we're subjected to the stares of lecherous old men."

"Claire…you'd be subjected to stares of everyone." Simon quipped. "Have you bloody seen yourself lately?" Gustave glared at him.

"Don't remind me." She said moodily. "It's a curse."

"Yes, poor Claire…she's so beautiful…who would want that?" Julienne said sarcastically.

"Well I don't." Claire announced. "I'd rather have somebody want to know me for me." She discreetly looked at Gustave, whose honey blond hair was in adorable disarray and his blue eyes were troubled. "Well, we should go." Claire turned back to her sister and cousin.

"Stay…why don't the three of you come to the bistro with us?" Gustave asked quickly. Claire gave him a disbelieving look.

"I don't think—"

"We'd love to come!" Julienne interrupted, blushing further.

"Really?" James asked her. "Lily, are you alright being out in broad daylight?"

"Drop dead, Westcliff." She said through gritted teeth.

"But I'm so pretty…" He said in mock horror.

"Enough, you two." Claire said, turning to Gustave. "Fine. We'll come along." He smiled at her and she ignored the usual pang of longing for him that she'd felt since she was thirteen. He offered her his arm, which she took out of good manners. Simon paired off with Julienne, leaving James and Lillian. He offered her his arm. Giving him a dirty look, Lillian took it and scowled at him. He seemed to enjoy it.

The bistro was surprisingly empty, and the six of them easily found a table near the back wall. Gustave pulled Claire's chair out for her and she scowled because she knew he was only doing it to be nice. It still irritated that he was all of a sudden interested in her because she was nice looking. Men were so shallow.

A wry grin came to Claire's face.

Perhaps she should teach him a lesson…

"Gustave?" She said in her most flirtatious voice. Obvious surprise crossed his angelic face as he turned to look down at her. "Perhaps I will go to the gala this weekend. My father is one of the biggest patrons after all…" Claire ignored Julienne and Lillian's identical look of question. "The only thing is…I wouldn't want to be a wallflower…"

"Claire," Gustave sounded somewhat appalled. "You know I will always dance with you. We've known each other since childhood." Claire smiled prettily at him.

"Good. Then it's settled."

"I'll come too." Julienne said firmly, looking at Simon. "Will you be there Monsieur Reynolds?"

"Yes…" He sighed, running a hand through his brassy golden hair. "My mother is forcing me. She used to be a prima ballerina you know."

"Oh right…" Claire said. "I forgot that your mother is the daughter of Madame Giry."

"Well my mother is no ballerina and I have to go as well." James said. "You going Lil?"

"My parents are going, so I'll probably go too…but I'm not dancing with _you_." She glared at him. He beamed at her.

"Such love…we'd be great together me and you."

"Forget it Westcliff."

Claire and Julienne met eyes knowingly. The dynamic between their cousin and James was undeniable. Lillian would never admit it, but she was attracted to him. Claire turned her attention back to Gustave to continue her plan.

"Claire would you like to take a walk with me after we eat?" Gustave blurted out. She blinked at him insurprise and nodded.

"I…" Torn between whether or not it was a good idea, she nodded with a sigh. "Very well."

* * *

"Bella! You're just in time for the ball tonight!"

Bella allowed her cousin Gabrielle to practically attack her as she threw her arms around her.

"What ball?" Bella laughed, yawning in exhaustion from the journey. Her Aunt Bianca smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Lady Keating is throwing a masquerade. I'm sure you'd like to go, I know how your family adores Tristan."

"Tristan…?" Bella's eyes widened as she realized she was forgetting he was Lord Keating now. "Oh, right!" Bella sighed. "I don't think I'd like to go. I'm so tired and we only just got here and…"

"And Tris will be glad to see people who are familiar." Charles cut in. "We should go."

"Charles," She ground out at her brother. "I can't dance. Well, not really well anyway…and I am in no mood to make a fool of myself."

"You're a _fine_ dancer." He insisted. Bella stared at him.

"I broke your toe the last time we danced, you dolt." She pointed out. He cringed, remembering.

"Well, it would hurt Tris if we didn't go."

"Tris doesn't even know I am here." She reminded him. "And I am sure he is plenty surrounded by ladies to even care."

"Lord Keating _is_ quite popular." Gabrielle agreed. "He's got quite a reputation."

"He's a good boy." Erik said, coming into the room and joining the conversation. "Bianca." He said, kissing his sister-in-law's cheek.

"Erik…how are Evie and the girls?" Aunt Bianca asked.

"Fine, fine…Madeleine gave birth to Olivia as you know and Evie is just tickled. She's over there twice a week at least." He laughed. "Claire is settling back in at home and Julienne falls in love twice a week."

"And my little Esme?" Bianca asked.

"A handful." Erik replied with a grin. "Luckily Roger has been there to keep her company. You know how she adores him. He and Nadir are looking for permanent residence in Paris."

"Well, Ansel is waiting for you in his study…Gabrielle, Bella and I are going to start getting ready for the ball." Aunt Bianca winked at Bella, who blushed.

"Really, I don't think…"

"Sweetheart, you're on vacation. Have some fun." She said, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"I don't have anything to wear…or a mask." Bella replied.

"I'm sure we have something we can dredge up ." Bianca replied with a grin.

"I have that gold mask from the New Year's Ball last year!" Gabrielle cried.

"And that blue dress that is just a touch too big for you in the bust…" Bianca said.

"With the beading at the bodice and the train?"

"Train?" Bella asked in panic.

"Oh, that'll be perfect!" Bianca agreed. "And we'll let her wear my gold slippers."

"I'm not so sure that's a great idea—" Bella tried.

"And I'll weave some gold ribbon through her hair!" Gabrielle agreed.

"I don't think I'm feeling very well…" Bella said meekly.

"Leave everything to us!" Bianca said excitedly. "Gabrielle, go get the rags so we can set her hair."

Bella gulped.

* * *

"The Marchioness thinks there should be a calf's head as an entrée." Frederic said. Tris cringed.

"Disgusting. Absolutely not. She will have prime rib and that is final." He said haughtily, hating how he sounded when he made decisions. At least Charles was going to be here tonight to save him from boredom. Any moment, the guests would be arriving.

He'd made a decision the day he'd received Bella's letter. He was going to find a bride and get it done with as soon as possible. Thus, the reason for the ball. Then, she could go on with her life and be done with his stupidity. He still couldn't believe he'd actually allowed himself to kiss her. Repeatedly.

And she had liked it…

But how could he give her false hope when he knew they could never be together?

And then another thought—why couldn't they be together? So what if she was not born into the peerage? It was becoming common fashion for aristocrats to marry common people. Not that Bella could ever be common. And Gaston Belgrave knew it too.

He could hear the sound of chatter below and the orchestra tuning and knew he'd better get downstairs before his mother came looking for him. There was already a line of young women out the door. He groaned inwardly, thinking of having to dance with all of those wretched gold diggers.

A golden head caught his eye and he realized it was Lotte de Chagny…or the Duchess of Reddon. She grinned in his direction, the same smile as her younger brother's.

"Lord Keating…" She said, walking over to him with a smile. He noticed her dress trying to hide the slight curve of her middle. "It's confinement for me soon." She whispered. He nodded.

"I see that. And where is the Duke?"

"Reprimanding the driver for going over a bump too fast." She laughed. "He's so overprotective when I'm like this."

"Well, I'm sure I would be too." Tris agreed.

"Lord Keating!" Ryan Granger, Duke of Reddon stepped up behind his wife and held his hand out to Tris. "Tris, old boy…never thought I see the day."

Smiling, Tris took his hand and shook it.

"Neither did I…at least, I hope I wouldn't." He laughed. "Congratulations on your newest addition." He nodded toward Lotte. Ryan nodded.

"End of summer." He said, touching his wife's middle.

"Ryan, people will see." Lotte said quietly, looking around.

"See what? That the Reddons are expecting another? Who cares?" He said carelessly. "Oh damn. Nigel Carrington." Kissing Lotte's cheek he sighed. "He saw us. Brace yourself, love."

"We'll talk to you later, Tris." Lotte said apologetically. Tris nodded, returning to greeting guest after guest. It was disgusting the way young ladies threw themselves at him.

"Well there's a face I recognize!" Tris turned to see Charles and his father standing beside him. A reluctant grin came to his face, but he did not react as he once would have. It had become very clear, since he'd become a titled man that London society did not condone boisterousness.

"Messieurs." He said smiling. Shaking Mr. Destler's hand first, he patted Charles on the back. Charles frowned momentarily, taking him in. An eyebrow raised sardonically, but he smiled again, letting his eyes wander.

"Tris, I see a group of English belles that I think I may go try out my irresistible charm on." Charles said, winking. Mr. Destler rolled his eyes.

"And I must go where business calls. Our clients await." He said, urging Charles along with him. Charles shrugged and followed with a wolfish grin.

"My lord…" A demure, but silky voice came from beside him. He sighed, turning to see a group of four girls, all obviously sisters…all unfortunate looking. Nothing at all like the Destler sisters…

English women just didn't have the same charm to him.

"I will save a dance for you." The girl, whose name was something like Celine, or Cecilia…or Amanda…or something…

"Very good. Thank you…" He said. The girls all tittered through their crowd, their mother eyeing him with shining eyes. He swallowed, noticing that she had marriage in her eyes. He shuddered at the thought of being married to one of those horse-faced cows.

"Tristan." A dry voice startled him. He turned, cringing and knowing his mother was going to be standing there.

"Mother." Dutifully, he pecked her on the cheek for appearance's sake.

"I have made a list of all of the eligible young ladies in London and all of the ones I approve of."

"What if I don't approve?" He challenged, irritated already.

"Nonsense." She barked. "You are a man. Men hardly have the sense to choose their own bride."

"Why can't you just want happiness for me like a normal parent?" He asked bluntly, hurt by her sharpness.

"Happiness is severely overrated, my boy." She insisted. "The best leaders are the unhappiest men."

"I somehow doubt that." He muttered under his breath, thinking he finally understood why his father was so miserable.

"I want you to marry this season, Tristan. I want to get it out of the way so that there is ample time for an heir to be begotten."

"Would you like to be in the marriage bed barking orders as well?" He asked, keeping his face pleasant while adopting a harsh tone.

"That is highly inappropriate, Tristan." Her mouth twitched disapprovingly. "And I would if I had to." He made a noise of disgust. "I am retiring to bed. I have a headache."

"So much the better." He answered, smiling at the Duchess of Easton. Vaguely he heard his mother step away. Determined to level his head, he headed into the ballroom to look for Charles. He didn't have many male friends in England, so he was relieved to have Charles and Mr. Destler at the masquerade. A wry grin came to Mr. Destler's face. He always wore a mask.

Charles was surrounded by girls, including the four sisters that had accosted Tris before. He looked a bit distracted…as if he were thinking of somewhere he'd rather be.

"My lord, see any young ladies that interest you?" Lotte asked, joining him.

"God no." He scoffed. "Everyone here is so superficial…not at all like home."

"I know what you mean." Lotte sighed. "I miss Mum and Dad so much when they are in France. And the atmosphere there is just…better." She touched his arm. "But you never know. Cinderella could show up at the ball tonight."

Tris turned to Lotte.

"I never cared much for that bloody awful story." He scowled. "The girl of my dreams is not going to appear in the doorway by magic."

Lotte's eyes drifted momentarily past him to the very door.

"I don't know about the girl of your _dreams, _but she seems pretty." Lotte offered, nodding to the girl in dark blue in the doorway. A silver mask covered the top half of her face and her mahogany hair hung down her back in elaborate ringlets. She almost looked familiar.

She looked petrified. Poor thing.

"I should go…" He said, already drifting toward the scared girl.

"Of course." Lotte said. Tris couldn't see her face, but knew somehow that she was smiling.

It was bizarre the way the crowd seemed to part, but Tris was able to get to the girl in seconds. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him and her lips curved into a sweet, uncalculating smile.

"My lord." She whispered, bowing her head.

"Do I know you?" He asked. She bit her bottom lip, but did not answer. "Would you dance with me?"

"I'm not very good." She hesitantly admitted. He imagined if he could see her face, she would be blushing.

"I don't mind." He assured her. Taking her gloved hand in his, he led her to where other couples were already dancing. He began to feel a bit better. This was the first girl he'd been able to even look at since Bella. She was moving on…and so should he. Perhaps this girl was the one…

"One hand here." He explained, putting her hand on his shoulder. She laughed.

"That much I do know, my lord."

"Oh. Right…" He said, feeling stupid. "Sorry."

"Never be sorry!" Her voice was so light and kind, it made him feel warm again. And it became apparent she was French with her accent. It sort of hurt to hear this girl's voice. She was so similar to Bella. He twirled her with ease.

"Would you like to go for a walk, my lord?" The mystery girl asked.

"I think that would be nice." He agreed amiably. Leading her out into his mother's English garden, he asked, "You're French?"

"Yes." She laughed, sounding sort of embarrassed. "I was trying so hard to fit in."

"Ah, but I lived in France for a long time." Tris pointed out.

"Oh yes…I do believe I knew that." She replied easily, reaching out to touch a velvety pink rose. Enchanted he smiled down at her.

"And what else do you know about me?"

"Not too much I'm afraid…" She looked away when she said it though.

"I see…" He began to feel guilty, remembering his last time with Bella. Leaving her in the garden at the Chagny's Paris estate after kissing her. He remembered the smell of her hair, the soft curve of her lips when she smiled…

"I can't do this…" He said quietly, turning away and hating himself.

"Can't do what, my lord?" The girl asked.

"I won't. I won't do it. Not to her…"

"Sir…you aren't making any sense at all." She touched his arm. Turning quickly back to her, he sighed.

"You are lovely, Miss. But I am afraid there's someone else." He hated himself as he said it.

"Someone else?" She asked, sounding a bit alarmed. Looking down at her, he touched her chin.

"Yes…I've been fooling myself all this time, when all along, the one I wanted was right under my nose." He said, smiling sadly down at her. "And I've got to go back to her…I've got to try."

"Who?" She whispered. Tris, surprised, studied her face, her pouty lips, her big brown eyes…his heart began to beat wildly against his chest.

"Her name is Isabella…Bella." He breathed. And to his surprise, she broke into a small smile.

"Oh dear." She said sounding rather casual about the whole thing.

"Yes," He cleared his throat and turned toward the house. "So you can imagine, I must make immediate plans to go to Paris and…and…"

"Tris." He froze.

"Yes?" He whispered, still with his back to her.

"Turn around." She said and he did. Reaching up, she slowly unfastened the ribbons holding up her mask, and finally let it drop, revealing her face to him.

"Bella." He said, staring at her as if she were an apparition. "_Bella._"

He moved quickly, but she met him in the middle and threw her arms around his neck. He stooped slightly, but only to lift her off the ground and hold her at his level and he kissed her like he'd never kissed another woman. She returned the kiss like a woman starved.

Tris pulled away only long enough to speak.

"Marry me." He rasped.

"I…"

"Please." Tris knew he was begging.

"Yes." She said as he set her down.

"I don't have a ring, or really anything to give you right now…but I know I cannot marry any other woman." He shrugged, as the confessions poured from him. "I love you, Isabella Rose Destler. I have for four years now."

"Tris!" She cried in surprise.

"Your brother is going to kill me."

She giggled and took his hands.

"I'll handle him and Dad."

"Oh damn. I'd forgotten your father." He said, feeling sick. She laughed and stood on her toes to kiss him again. Forgetting his anticipation, he swung her around like a small child and unashamedly, let the tears of joy fall.

In their moment of bliss, neither of them noticed the movement behind the hedge.

* * *

**This is so cheeseball. lol Happy New Year!!!**

**Syd  
**


	10. Lessons Learned

Tris awoke the day after the ball with a new outlook on life. Although he had yet to break the news that he'd spontaneously proposed to the love of his life, who also happened to be the little sister of his best friend, he felt light as a feather. It was no secret that Charles was a bit temperamental on a good day, but somehow, Tris knew everything was going to work out. It had to, because he'd leapt off the cliff without looking back. He agreed to come to the hotel where Bella was staying with Charles and their father the next day and announce his intentions of making her his wife.

"Oh God…" He said aloud, pulling on his morning coat and straightening his ascot. The thought of the two identical sets of green eyes glaring at him certainly was not welcoming, but he knew Bella was worth it. Still, he decided to prolong the agony and walk to the hotel instead of drive. It was less than a mile away and it was sunny and delightful.

Tris had every intention of walking straight into the hotel to have done with the whole ordeal, but there was a couple walking just ahead of him and quietly arguing as they attempted to appear content. The young man was guiding, or rather, practically dragging the poor girl. A wry grin came to Tris's face because he realized he knew exactly who he was trailing behind. In fact, the very subjects of his thoughts.

"Really Charles, what has gotten into you?" Bella asked in a hushed voice, nodding to a passerby.

"You've been up to something Isabella, and I intend to get to the bottom of it." Charles let out a sigh. "Did you meet someone at the ball yesterday?"

"Well…no…I didn't _meet _anyone…"

"Then you got into trouble." He stated. Bella let out a slight sound of annoyance as she nearly tripped over uneven pavement.

"I did not!" She replied indignantly. "I was just…tired."

"Hmmm…" Charles answered, obviously unsatisfied. Tris decided to intervene and save Bella. Since he was going to marry the girl, it seemed the right thing to do.

"You really shouldn't bicker in public. It's ugly." He said, startling the two of them. Both of their eyes lit up when they turned around.

"Tris! I should have suspected you'd be lurking in the streets of London."

"I never lurk." He said, feigning horror. Bella smiled.

"How long have you been following us?" Charles asked with a raffish grin. Tris pretended to think.  
"Five minutes, perhaps." He replied, winking at Bella, who blushed, but said nothing.  
"Won't you sit down to lunch with us and our father at the Rutledge?"

"Of course." Tris said, feeling a bit anxious. "You know I never refuse food." He offered Bella his arm, which she took without hesitation. Charles gave them an odd look, but shrugged and walked beside them into the Rutledge Hotel, where they were staying.

"It was quite a party last night Coolidge...er...Keating or whatever you're going by these days." Charles joked. "Plenty of beautiful girls."

"Yes, there were." Tris glanced down at Bella, who was pointedly looking elsewhere pretending not to listen. He pulled the chair out for her to sit down. He could see her wringing her hands as he sat beside her at the table in the hotel restaurant.

"My sister enjoyed herself, didn't you Bells?" Charles prompted, making Bella jump a bit. She smiled nervous.

"Of course. Except for the tiny fact that you and Dad left me to the machinations of Gabrielle and Aunt Bianca, who made their sole purpose in life setting my hair in rags and dressing me! You know I hate to be fussed over."  
Charles smiled evilly.

"I know." Turning to Tris, Bella sighed.

"The moment I arrived, I was dragged into Gabrielle's room and primped. I felt like a dinner entree."

"Poor Bella." He said sympathetically, trying to sound casual about the fact so that Charles would not deduce that the two of them intended on marrying. "When is your father due?"

"Any moment," Charles answered, "He was just meeting with the contractors for a minute." A waiter set a basket of fresh bread on the table with butter.

"I wish Claire were here." Bella said wistfully. Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Good God, _why?_" He asked, biting into a slice of bread. "We would have to hear her opinion on everything."

"I love that about our sister!" Bella said defensively. "She is so strong. I envy her!"

"You and every other girl in Paris envies our little Claire-Bear." Charles scowled.

"Such a protective older brother." Bella teased.

"Well...the only man who doesn't leer at her is Tris. And that's a feat for him!" Tris shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Leering at women is so overrated these days." He said, straightening his ascot. "I think I much prefer the idea of monogamy."

"You?" Charles asked incredulously, slow realization coming into his eyes. "There's a girl. Who is she? Tell me _everything._"

"I...uh--" Tris was saved, however, by Mr. Destler's arrival.

"Sorry I'm late. These damn English don't know anyth--"

"Ahem." Bella cleared her throat quickly. Destler realized Tris was there.

"Tris." He shook the boy's hand. "So glad to have you."

"So about this girl..." Charles began again.

"What girl?" Destler asked with a wry smile.

"Tris met a girl." Charles explained. Bella let out a small sigh of distress.

"Oh?"

"Well...it's complicated..."

"Why? Are her family unsatisfactory?" Destler asked.

"No!" Tris cried. "Not at all..."

"So there _is_ a girl!" Charles cried victoriously.

"Charles." Bella said quietly.

"What is her name?" Charles ignored his sister.

"Her name..." Tris echoed, panicking.

"Charles." Bella repeated, a bit louder.

"Not _now_ Bells...I've got to hear this." Charles replied.

"Bella is something wrong?" Destler asked. Bella shook her head.

"I don't know how to..." Tris faltered.

"Her name! Just tell me her name...is she married? Widowed?" Charles gasped. "Is it Lady Easton, who sold Dad the horse?"

"No!" Tris said, annoyed now.

"_Charles!_" Bella yelled. All three men stopped and turned to stare at Bella, who was now standing with her fork held in her small, shaking hand like a weapon.

"What is it?" Destler asked his daughter calmly.

"It's me." She said, now quietly as she caught the stares of people and sunk back into her seat.

"What's you?" Charles asked. Destler's eyes narrowed, first at his daughter and then at Tris.

"I'm the girl." She looked down at her lap. Charles's gaze slowly turned to understanding and then slowly, fury crept into his pale green eyes as he turned to Tris.

"Is this true?" He asked. Tris looked at Bella, feeling the love he'd hidden for so long overflow.

"It is." Charles stared at him in shock for a moment before his voice grew very low.

"I told you _explicitly_ that my sisters were off limits to you...did I not?"

"You did." Tris replied, thinking it better to let Charles have it out now.

"Charles." Destler interjected calmly.

"And you deliberately pursued my sister anyway..."

"I did." He agreed.

"Did you compromise her?" Charles turned to Bella. "Did he compromise you?" He looked back at Tris. "I'll kill him!"

"He did _not_." Bella replied indignantly. "And how _dare _you to presume that I would fall prey to that!"

"Then _what?_" Charles now bellowed, turning heads again. Tris stared as calmly as he could at his best friend.

"I asked her to marry me." Tris stated, swallowing. His palms were sweaty, he knew. Destler, ignoring his son, turned to Bella.

"Is this true?"

"Yes." She said.

"And did you accept?" Her father went on.

"I did."

"Then you have my blessing." He replied, looking at Tris. "If Bella deems you worthy of her, then so do I." Bella looked at her father with such adoration, Tris felt extreme envy for having good parents. Charles, however, was glowering at him still.

"I think we two should go and telegraph your mother the good news, my girl." Destler said, standing and offering his hand to Bella. Nodding, she smiled and looked once more at Tris, who tried to ignore the heat of Charles's eyes on him. "Charles, do let it go." Destler added, "Sulking doesn't become you and it's my blessing he needs, not yours." Charles looked at his father furiously, watching the two walk away. Tris saw his anger wane and finally leave his face, replacing it with resignation. He cleared his throat.

"I'll let it go..." Charles agreed. "But if you ever hurt my sister...I'm going to kill you."

* * *

Emmy was humming her scales as she walked up the steps to Charles's townhouse and rang the bell. His butler answered and she saw something like pity in his shocked expression.

"Mademoiselle de Chagny!"

"Sir." She nodded. "I'm here for my lesson with Monsieur Destler." The man nodded.

"He's in London on business for two months, Mademoiselle." The butler sighed. "I can't believe he didn't tell you." Hurt filled her chest.

"T-Two months?" She asked. He'd just left without saying goodbye.  
Two months were all that was left before she was going to audition for the opera. Unbidden tears filled her eyes embarrassingly.

"Oh...I see." She said, shaking.

"I'm sorry, milady...can I have his carriage take you home?"

"No." She replied, swallowing the lump in her throat and replacing it with what could only be anger. "I'll manage. Thank you kindly." She turned then, and left him watching her sympathetically. Her pinned dark coiffure had begun to unravel in the unusally windy day. Aimlessly, she walked down the main street of town and forbade herself to cry. Stumbling over a stone, she nearly lost her balance as another gust came. She caught herself before she ran into a girl and with horror, realized it was Chloe.

"Get off of me, you great klutz!" Chloe said, brushing off her dress. "I don't want to get what you're carrying." Her two friends laughed.

"I'm sorry." Emmy said and began to turn away.

"Sorry to hear Charles left town. I guess you scared him off." Chloe said sweetly. Tired of it all, and on her last nerve, she turned back to Chloe.

"Perhaps it was because I don't shamelessly throw myself him like _some_ common whores do. I suppose I just want a man to love me for something other than what's between my legs." Emmy shrugged. "I don't know...but I wish you a wonderful day, Chloe, Georgette, Marcheline." When she turned away, she finally allowed the tears to fall down her face, but somehow, she felt the tiniest bit better.

* * *

Gustave stared at the front door at the Destlers' for five entire minutes before working up the courage to ring the bell. The door was opened almost instantly, and to his surprise, he found himself staring into the face of ten year old Esme.

"Good afternoon Monsieur le Vicomte." She said prettily, curtseying. "My sister is expecting you." He breathed in relief. Claire had agreed to see him today, but with the nature of her ever changing moods, he wasn't sure from moment to moment what she would be like. "You can come into the parlor." Esme said, skipping ahead. He followed her into the room where Madame Destler and Julienne sat expectantly.

"Gustave." Madame Destler said, "How are your parents?"

"Wonderful. They send their love and would like you to come for dinner before the gala."

"Oh, delightful. It will just be Julienne, Claire and I since Monsieur Destler is in England for the month."

"Of course." He said, sitting across from them in a chair. A long silence passed as he looked awkwardly at everything except the three females in the room with him. Finally, ten painstaking minutes later, Claire appeared. Her black hair was pinned prettily under a small hat. She wore a skirt of blue satin with a white blouse and a matching blue jacket. Blue gloves adorned her hands. She looked like an exotic princess.

Gustave stared at her for a moment until her dark eyebrow arched in expectant impatience.

"Well, are you going to gape all day or are you ready?"

"_Claire._" Madame Destler scolded her daughter, giving Gustave an apologetic look.

"Coming!" He called after her, watching as she disappeared through the door with her mother and youngest sister close behind. He started to follow her, but was stopped by her other sister, the one who looked like her.

"Monsieur le Vicomte." Her voice was a conspiratorial whisper.

"Yes Mademoiselle?"

"Don't try to impress her. She hates that. Just be yourself…Claire isn't one who is awed by formalities. She's got very simple tastes." Julienne smiled and went on. "She likes daisies, not roses and there is a small café near the Opera Populaire. Take her there, it's her favorite."

A smile came to Gustave's face as he stared down at the girl.

"Why are you helping me, Miss Destler?" Her eyes became brighter, sparkling with mischief.

"It's for Claire. I want her to be happy…" She winked at him and gestured for him to leave. He nodded at her and went after Claire.


	11. In This Labyrinth

Claire watched the familiar sights go by as she sat in the Chagny carriage across from Gustave. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she imagined the lengths to which he would go to impress her. No doubt they would eat at the Nourriture de Luxe, the grandest restaurant in Paris. It was all so disgustingly predictable. Claire studied Gustave, from his strong square jaw to his blue eyes and his golden hair, she remembered her girlhood daydreams about him. She had envisioned him courting her once. He would have arrived at her house, somehow knowing her favorite flower, books…food…Now, she was beginning to sorely wish she had left those details to her imagination. This man was not the golden prince of her dreams, he was just like every other silly boy she knew…and he hadn't even noticed her until she was considered beautiful. Yet, somewhere deep down, she must still harbor some of those girlish hopes, for here they sat.

The carriage stopped and the door opened, letting in the afternoon light. Gustave got out first and turned to help Claire down the steps. Looking around, she filled with confusion.

"I don't understand." She said, seeing the small café.

"This is where we are having lunch. I hope you don't mind." Humbly, he smiled down at her. "It _is_ your favorite, is it not?"

"Well, yes…" She admitted, dumbfounded. His sky blue eyes twinkled.

"If you would rather go somewhere else—"

"No!" She stopped him. He grinned, looking very like the Comte then, and she felt herself again being drawn in by him…as she had been when she was young.

"Good." He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm.

Minutes later, Claire was seated in the corner of the café eating a bowl of the most delicious cheese soup in the world. Gustave looked impressed.

"I can't believe I've never been here before." He said, finishing off the soup and half of a baguette. Claire smiled, despite herself.

"My father used to bring us here all the time when he was doing work at the opera." An image of her father shepherding all six children to and from the opera came into her mind. Charles walking beside Dad, Maddie and Bella holding hands and giggling together. Julienne reading as she walked and little Esme perched in Dad's arms and Claire clinging to her father's free hand. "When Maman would go spend the day with one of her sisters, he would take us with him to the opera. Then, when he was done, we'd all walk across the street here, and eat."

"You should smile more often Claire." Gustave said, his head tilted slightly. "Your whole face lights up." Claire cheeks suddenly felt very hot. "You know," He went on, "I used to wish I had a big family like yours. It was so different for us."

"How?" She asked, curious.

"Well…" He drawled, breaking off a piece of her remaining bread. "Mother was an only child and Dad was like me. One boy with two sisters…though he was the youngest and I'm in the middle. My aunts, Kate and Rosaline, live so far away so I hardly see them or my cousins."

"I can imagine not having scores of family around." Claire mused.

"Yes…and of course, I had no close male relatives...Aunt Rosaline had two girls and Aunt Kate had a girl and a boy, but her son is a stranger to me. We've only seen each other three times in our lives."

"How awful." Claire said quietly. Gustave smiled sadly.

"It was lonely…I'll admit, and us Chagnys were very sheltered. Since my birth, I have been primed to take the title of Vicomte de Chagny." He caught himself. "Oh, don't get me wrong…my parents are wonderful, loving people, but we had responsibilities…obligations. Sometimes…" Gustave ran a hand through his fine, golden hair. "Sometimes, I wish life were simple. Or even that I had a brother to relate to. Lotte is a bit older and Emmy is so introverted, I feel utterly alone."

With a sigh, Claire nodded.

"I know what you mean." She looked at her hands. "I feel that way too sometimes."

"You do?" He asked, surprised.

"Charles is the oldest and boy…Maddie and Bella are closest, Julienne is so independent and Esmè is the baby, so I've always been kind of on my own." She bit her lip, self conscious all of a sudden.

"I never knew, Claire." He said earnestly. She shrugged, laughing nervously.

"Us middle children just get lost in the shuffle, I guess."

"You're right." He replied, but when she looked up, he was smiling. She felt somehow comfortable and boldness surged through her.

"You want to know something funny?"

"Yes." He chuckled.

"When I was younger, I fancied you." Another nervous giggle escaped her throat, embarrassingly.

"You did?" He too made a sound of amusement, though his shock was evident. Her eyes locked awkwardly on her empty soup bowl as she began to fiddle with her unused napkin.

"Yes…I couldn't even speak when you came around." Shaking her head, she smiled ruefully. "That must have been why you couldn't remember my name."

"I _am_ sorry about that." He interrupted. She looked up at him without anger.

"It was a long time ago, Gustave. I was a child." Looking away again, she added, "With Maddie around, you just never noticed me." His hand came across the table and stopped her fidgeting with the napkin. Her breath caught and she met his sincere blue eyes.

"I was young too, Claire. And I just wasn't looking."

* * *

"So tell me about when you were traveling." Gustave said, walking arm in arm with Claire down the street.

"Oh. Italy was my favorite…I loved the art and the history and…everything and then Greece was like paradise." She looked up at him, her green eyes big with excitement about the story she was telling. A surge of warmth swept through his belly. "My parents honeymooned in Greece." Gustave tried to imagine Claire relaxing on a Grecian beach with her black hair flowing freely in the wind. He'd never even seen her hair down and had the urge to pull the pins from her elegant coiffure and let it fall down her back like ebony ribbons. "…and during the sunset, you can literally watch the sun disappear below the horizon." They stopped walking and he turned to face her, somewhat dazed.

"It sounds amazing…" He agreed.

"Oh…it is…" She managed to say. Breaking the moment, he looked eastward.

"I would give anything to just drop everything and travel the continent."

"You should." She laughed. He began to walk again, wishing fervently that she wasn't wearing gloves so he could feel her hand.

"My grandfather used to travel." Gustave grinned. "He was a famous violinist." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look up in interest. "I was named for him, you know. Mother was very close with him…and I think in a way, she named me, wishing I would be just like him."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"I took violin lessons all my life and it just…sometimes it felt like she was trying to force me to be like him. I wanted her to be proud of _me_ not that I was like her father. It's hard to explain." He sighed. "My mother's father was the reason she had such a passion for music."

"She was very young when she lost him." Claire said. "Emmy told us a bit about it and Dad owns half of the opera now."

"Ah yes, I remember he bought Monsieur Andrè's part when he passed away." A smirk came to her face.

"Dad always thought he ought to own the place." She said dryly.

"Is it true about the lake below?" Gustave asked, remembering the old tales his parents had told at bedtime.

"Yes." Claire affirmed. "But it would be impossible to get to it." He studied her for a moment and realized she was baiting him.

"Do _you_ know how to get down there?" He took the bait. A moment passed as she pondered responding to him. A slow smile crept into her features.

"Yes."

"Would you show me?" Gustave's mind was churning with possibilities but she nodded and took his hand. The opera house was about a block in the opposite direction and was all quiet in the off season. A sign sat in place of promotional posters that read, **Open Auditions, August 3-4.**

They walked into the silent foyer and she pulled him toward a darkened hallway.

"This way." Her voice was a whisper. Distantly, he could hear the sounds of a rehearsal down the hall. The girly chatter and laughter ceased as Claire pulled him into a dressing room and fished around the vanity for a match. The room was dimly illuminated as she found one and lit a candle that had seen better days.

"There's no where to go, Claire." He protested, looking around the small room. She rolled her eyes and turned to look at herself in the mirror. Pressing her fingertips to the glass, a clicking noise came and the mirror gave way. Easily, she slid it aside and stepped through. Gustave was gaping at her dumbly.

"Coming, Monsieur le Vicomte?" She asked, sounding almost seductive. He tried to play it off casually.

"Very clever." He drew in a quick breath as she held out a tiny gloved hand to him.

"Keep close or you'll never make it out alive." A small chuckle emerged from her throat. With pleasure he stayed as close to her side as holding her hand allowed. She stopped abruptly and crouched, feeling around for something. Moments later, the candle was replaced by a lantern. "Much better."

"Indeed." He agreed, following her down a winding staircase.

"Be careful…there is a hole in the stairs here…the trap was set off and never reset."

"Trap?" He asked with alarm.

"Yes…that one led to certain death underwater. In which the intruder would be trapped under the grate. Your father fell into it last." Claire met his eyes, glowing with mischief.

"My father?"

"You remember the old tales." She reminded him.

"They're true?"

"Every last one." She agreed.

"So…your father and my mother…?" He began. She nodded.

"All true. But come forward now and be careful. There is a ledge here and we have to get into the boat." Easily she bent to hook the lantern onto something and when she was done he could see the boat in the water. A small, sleek gondola. She stepped in and motioned for him to join her.

"You've done this before…" He stated. She shook her head.

"Actually, I've never crossed the lake. Dad has though."

Gustave stepped in and Claire used the rod to urge the boat along. They both remained quiet, looking around at the now-dead booby traps and wreckage from the mob that had once gone after her father. After what seemed like an hour, they hit the shore. Claire removed the lantern from the hook and held it up to look around. Amid the mess were crumpled and ripped pieces of parchment, ruined fabrics, and broken antique furniture. Bending down, Gustave picked up a piece of rumpled paper and realized he was looking at a perfect drawing of his mother.

"Gustave." Claire's voice shook and drew his eyes away from the drawing. She was standing beside a velvet drapery that she was holding open. Her face had gone pale and she was staring behind it.

"What's the matter?" He asked, concerned. Joining her, he turned to look and recoiled in horror. There stood a wax doll, an exact replica of his mother dressed in a dusty old fashioned blue dress.

"He loved her." Claire said, sinking away and letting the curtain fall closed once more. Gustave breathed in relief as the doll disappeared. His eyes fell on the portcullis and he remembered a story his mother had told once.

"_The poor lovesick man tied his rival to the portcullis and made the girl he loved choose between her true love and him." _

"My mother saved my father, then…it was all true."

"She saved my father too, Gustave." Claire corrected. "She saved him from himself."

Gustave turned to look down at her again and they met eyes. He smiled as a blush came into her cheeks and moved closer, smelling a flowery perfume coming off of her.

"And now…here _we_ are."

"Here we are." She echoed, her voice quavering nervously as she looked around. "This place is magical. I can feel it."

"Maybe it isn't the place at all…" He said, still looking at her. "Maybe…it's us. You and I…Maybe _we're _magic." Claire met his eyes looking frightened and began to back away. He moved closer, pursuing her. "Why are you running from me, Claire?" Frantically, she shook her head.

"I can't. I can't do this."

"Is there someone else?" Gustave asked, worried.

"_No!_" She cried. "No…there's never _been_ anyone else. That's what scares me."

"Oh." He said, unsure of how to respond. "No one?"

"All I have ever been able to see was you." She admitted. He laughed, despite himself.

"Well that's ridiculous." He tried to joke. "You could have had anyone."

"I don't want _anyone._ I want you!" She cried defensively, stopping in horror. Her emerald eyes filled with tears. As she began to turn away, Gustave felt himself move forward and stop her, cupping her chin in his hand. Before she could protest, he pressed his lips softly, but firmly against her own.

* * *

**AHHHH it's so corny. LOL I can't stop writing crap!!!! Sorry guys!**


	12. Porcelain

Claire pulled back in surprise, looking at Gustave. She could not stop her body from shaking from both fear and awe. All her life, she had dreamed of kissing Gustave de Chagny, and though it was not the perfect kiss she'd imagined out of a romance novel, it was real.

And it was _him._ Which was even better. His face was flushed and his light hair was askew. He was beautiful still and, though she wanted nothing more than to launch back into his arms and keep kissing him, she couldn't help questioning his motives again. If she hadn't grown up to be beautiful…would he still want her? Would he love her if, God forbid, she was deformed? Or crippled?

This would have to be treaded lightly. She could not give in so easily to his charms. And even if she thought—no – _hoped_ he was deeper than that, she could not be so sure. After all…he was the most sought after bachelor in Paris. He could _marry _anyone…and she wasn't aristocratic. She was the daughter of a novelist and an architect. While her father was a genius, he did have a criminal history, though to what extent, she had never really been told. When given the choice, any sane man would look elsewhere to marry. And she was no one's conquest.

"Claire," He gasped, eyeing her. "Please say something. I can't bear it."

"This is too fast." She said, looking away from him, into the dark cavern. "I can't."

"What is it?" He asked, trying to touch her shoulder. She shrugged his touch away.

"Why me?" She inquired, turning to face him suddenly. His blue eyes widened.

"Sorry?" He looked confused…hurt, even.

"Gustave." She sighed desperately before looking him firmly in the eyes. "Are you only doing this to bed me? Because I will not sleep with you."

"What?!" He was angry now, glaring at her. "Why would you think that?"

"Because," She poked his chest with her finger. "You only noticed me _after_ other men showed an interest. Because I am now somebody's definition of pretty!"

"If you think that, then…" He glowed with ire. "You are not as smart as I gave you credit for!"

"What do you _expect_?" She cried. "It happens all the time, Gustave! Women are taken advantage of!"

"You don't trust me, Claire?" He looked wounded now. She said nothing. Resigned, he shook his head. "Let's just go. This was a mistake obviously." Stalking past him, she got into the gondola and waited for him to get in before pushing off.

It was a silent ride back to the stairs, and though he wasn't speaking, it seemed like he wanted to say something. She refused his help when he got out first and walked past him, hopping over the open trap door. He followed and she realized as she was walking, that the opera was closed for the night and everyone had retreated to their homes and to the dormitories. They were alone in the darkened theatre. It seemed ominous, empty that way and she did not like the way her heels clicked on the floor and echoed through the foyer.

He nearly ran into her as she stopped dead however when there was a flash of light and a loud clap of thunder.

"Oh no…" She heard herself mutter, backing up into his chest and nearly launching forward. He caught her around the shoulders and steadied her.

"What's the matter?" He asked testily. She could only shake her head, unable to find her voice. "Claire?" His tone softened.

"Don't…like…storms…" She gasped as the room began to spin and thunder clapped again. She must have swooned because she vaguely felt him sweep her up and carry her to sit on the grand staircase.

"Breathe Claire…please." He pleaded. She tried, but her airway seemed to not open enough and she could hear herself wheezing as the rain pounded violently on the roof. The wind was strong and roaring and the lightning lit up the room as if it were daylight again. His hand somehow ended up massaging the back of her neck gently. She hated the way her body was slumped against his, weak in her panic. Irrational she knew, because she could barely remember why she was even afraid. It had been so long ago, when she was practically a baby. "You're sweating bullets." He said, sounding very sympathetic now.

"Thunder…" She wheezed.

"I know." He replied. "You are afraid." Pausing, he said, "What happened to you?"

"Was a long time ago…" She managed. "…Was three years old…outside playing…got lost…and it started to rain…couldn't find my way back in dark…and it began to storm…was stuck out there for half an hour."

"Oh, Claire." Gustave said, putting his arm around her. She could feel herself shaking so badly that her teeth were chattering. "What happened? How did you get back?"

"Dad found me curled up under a tree shivering…don't remember…but he told me I was ice cold and shivering. Was sick for a while after that…they thought I…I might not have made it…but luckily I came back from it. Ever since, I…can't…storms…" She began to sob, burying her face in her arms.

"Breathe." He instructed, sounding extremely worried. "You'll give yourself a heart attack." His other arm wrapped around her and pulled her to sit in his lap. "You're safe with me, Claire." He murmured into her hair. She was still trembling, but it was beginning to subside a bit. "Nothing is going to hurt you, love."

"S-Sorry…" She wretched. "So…embarrassed."

"Talk to me. It might help." He suggested.

"What do y-you want me to s-say?" She stuttered through her chattering teeth.

"What is your favorite color?" He asked. She tried to think as thunder clapped again. Though this time, it sounded further away.

"Um..." Concentrating on the sound of his breathing, she replied, "Blue…like summer sky…" And then, for reasons she would never understand, she said, "Like your eyes."

He stopped breathing just as the sound of the rain tapered off and everything went calm.

"Sorry." She said, climbing shakily off of his lap and straightening herself out. "Don't know what I was thinking."

"Come on." He said, standing and taking her hand. "I'll take you home."

"No." She said, stopping him. He turned to look back at her.

"What? The storm is over, Claire." He assured her. She shook her head. Studying her, he moved closer to her. "Are you still weak…? Do you want to sit?" Again she shook her head in the negative. "What then?" He asked gently.

"I…" Taking a breath, she sighed heavily relishing the feel of oxygen flowing through her. "I'm sorry, Gustave."

"Oh…no…" He said with a nervous chuckle. "Everyone is afraid of something. Personally, I am _terrified_ of spiders, but that's—"

"No." She looked up into his eyes. "I'm sorry about what I said…down there." She let go of his hand and folded her arms across her chest. "I always assume the worst…and…and…you didn't deserve that, Gustave." She smiled sheepishly at him. "Maybe I'm still harboring some of my old insecurities…I'm not perfect."

"I know that, Claire." Gustave said softly. He put both hands on her shoulders. "I love that about you. You're very _real. _To think I would only want you for your beauty…is absurd. If you want to take things slow, that's fine. If you want to only be my friend...it's alright. But as long as you know that I would never be so shallow…and I am not after you to get in your corset."

"You've been with other women." She said, looking at the floor.

"I have." He agreed. "But I won't apologize for it. And compared to many, my sins are few. If you can't accept it, then I understand, but I can't take back what's past." She nodded, feeling somewhat better and respecting him for being honest.

"I don't want you to apologize. We are in no way obligated to each other." She felt very tired suddenly. "But I don't want to just rush into something here. Everyone seems to get engaged so quickly these days. Can we just take things one day at a time?"

"Yes." He agreed, and she took his hand again. "When may I see you again?"

"My family is having dinner with yours tomorrow. I will see you then. " She said, walking with him outside and to his waiting carriage. The driver had fallen asleep, so Gustave had to gently wake him and direct him to return to the Destler home. Claire felt weak after her episode in the lobby of the opera, but she did not indicate as much to Gustave. She hoped that her eyes had gone back to normal after crying. It would be unbearable to deal with her mother if she came in looking a fright.

"Well," Claire said, as Gustave got opened the door and got out to help her. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow."

"I suppose so." He agreed, hesitating for a moment. She looked down at her hands for a moment before making a decision and standing up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Taking his hand, she shook it and smiled.

"Goodnight, Gustave."

"Claire." Gustave nodded at her and watched as she walked into her house. Once inside the door, she leaned against it for support and tried to think through her exhaustion. It had been quite a strange day.

"Claire?" Her mother said in surprise, coming into the foyer.

"Yes. It's me." She called weakly. Her mother looked flushed.

"Oh, today has been so eventful…did you have a nice time?" Evie asked, coming to her daughter's side.

"It was…interesting." Claire took her mother's hand and let herself be led into the parlor where her sister's were all gathered, chattering. Maddie was there with the baby and Adam as well. Her face lit up at the sight of Claire and she stood.

"Tell me everything!" She cried, mothering Claire as she always had since they were very little girls. Claire pushed her away laughing and shook her head.

"Nothing happened! Good grief. We're only friends!" Julienne looked scandalized.

"_Friends?_ I go out of my way to tell Gustave what to do and you come back bloody _friends?_" She looked away as if wounded.

"It was _you?_" Claire asked incredulously, trying in vain not to laugh. "I was wondering how he knew which restaurant to take me to you little brat!" Maddie let out a giggle and Esme, not really knowing why she was laughing joined in as well. Julienne crossed her arms.

"Don't make fun." She pouted. Evie stepped into the middle.

"Claire, you have missed some news as well…" She held up a piece of paper. "Your father just telegraphed me this afternoon from London. Bella is engaged." Claire met Maddie's eyes. Maddie grinned, cradling the red haired infant to her.

"Oh no. Who compromised her? And please don't tell me Dad hurt them—" Claire began, but she was cut off by her mother's chuckle.

"No, no…It's Tris." She replied. Claire stared at her mother.

"Tris? Tris Coolidge—er—Lord Keating?" Confused, she looked at Julienne. "Our Tris?"

"Our Tris." Maddie confirmed. "Apparently, Bella went to his ball with Gabrielle and Aunt Bianca and he took one look at her and proposed!"

"To _Bella?_" Claire gasped. She'd thought she had known her sister, but in all of their years together, she had never once heard Bella speak of an attraction to any man, much less their brother's best friend. In fact, Bella's quiet, sweet nature seemed the exact _opposite _of dear Tris's type.

"I never doubted she could catch someone like Tris." Evie said defensively. "Bella is a lovely and wonderful girl."

"Of course!" Claire cried. "I know that…but so many people overlook her…I was just pleasantly surprised is all." Looking at Madeleine again, she said, "They're really engaged?"

"That's what Dad said." Maddie replied, handing the baby to Adam, who smiled down at his wife.

"Does the Marchioness know?" Adam asked. "Because you know as well as I do that she is liable to explode when she discovers Tris's intentions."

"Won't much matter will it?" Claire pointed out. "Tris is the Marquis. He can decide for himself. The Comte de Chagny married his wife and she was an _opera_ singer!" She stopped herself, hating how she felt more like she was defending herself than her sister.

"Sweetheart, things aren't that cut and dry anymore…aristocrats can marry whom they choose." Evie assured her, seeing right through her, no doubt. Claire hated her mother's ability to read her mind.

"I'm tired." Claire announced. "I think I'll retire to a hot bath." She didn't give anyone a chance to respond, because she had already left the room trying to sort out her feelings.

* * *

"Mother." Tris said dryly, inviting himself into his mother's tea parlor. The marchioness looked up at him with her icy eyes.

"Tristan." She acknowledged him.

"It may interest you to know that I am going to be married." He felt wonderful saying it. Her eyes showed the slightest spark of interest and her lips twitched.

"Really? I knew that ball would be a success…" She said arrogantly, spooning some sugar into her tea. Tris swallowed the irritation he felt and nodded.

"Indeed. Who could have foreseen that Destler would bring his daughter with him?"

"We shall have to start planning right away." The Marchioness said, unhearing. "I'll send for the florist and the caterer at once, and—" She stopped abruptly, turning very slowly to stare at her son. "Destler's daughter?" She looked bemused. "What has any daughter of Destler's--?" Tris grinned at her, loving every bit of unrest he caused her. "You are to marry one of the Destler girls?" Rage made her face turn an unseemly shade of red.

"Indeed." He said casually, sitting in the chair across from hers and helping himself to some tea.

"Which one?" She fumed.

"Isabella. The second eldest." He said, enjoying the sound of Bella's proper name on his tongue.

"The _plain _one?" She cried. He rose so quickly, even he could scarcely believe it as he cornered her.

"Do not _ever_ call her plain in front of me again! Do you understand me?" He attempted the most menacing look he could manage at her. She blanched slightly, but only slightly.

"Have you forgotten who you _are, _Tristan?" The Marchioness cried. "To parade that French…low bred…_girl_ here! As your wife? I won't allow it!"

"It's a good thing I don't value your opinion, my lady." He said, impressed with how calm he kept himself. "And while I am on the subject…you _will_ treat my fiancée with the utmost respect when she is present in my home. After all, she will soon hold your title." A grin broke onto his face and he completely relished the look of despair on her face at his statement.

"Can she even read?" The Marchioness inquired cruelly. Tris stared at her incredulously.

"Her father is one of the wealthiest men in France, you bloody idiot." He spat at her. "She can read, write, play the piano, she is trained in voice and she speaks Italian and English as well as her own language. She's far more cultured than you could ever hope to be!"

"She's as clumsy as an ox." The Marchioness pointed out.

"A minor obstacle." He brushed her off, finishing his tea before facing her straight on. "Whether you want this or not, _Mother, _this marriage is going to happen. I love her. Damn your prejudices…peers are marrying the working class every day now. And I for one, am a progressive thinker." He took a tea cake off of her platter and smiled cruelly at her. "Good day…Dowager."

Humming to himself, he left her in her tea parlor, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Charles was staring at the blueprints for Lady Easton's new estate without seeing. He was tired…and irritated and just plain bored. Bella had gone off somewhere with Aunt Bianca and Gabrielle again and Dad was pining for Mother. Damn Tris and his designs on poor little Bella, who was so innocent. Not, that the thought of Tris actually _marrying_ Bella was unsatisfactory, because as much as Charles hated to admit, the thought of having Tris in the family was great. It was the fact that Tris had never so much as admitted feelings for any woman of the long term. And he didn't relish the fact that Bella could be heartbroken before she was a bride.

_And, _Charles didn't want to have to pick up the pieces. He'd always worried about Bella, who wasn't like their sisters. She was so innocent…so unselfish. It wasn't in her nature to be wary. She trusted everybody with an unwavering loyalty, it would no doubt haunt her one day. Bella, bless her, had even tried to befriend Chloe Blanchard as a child and was hurt when Chloe stole Bella's favorite porcelain doll. It was a doll that their father had bought for her tenth birthday in Italy for her, especially because it looked like her with its pale skin and warm brown eyes. He'd had a dress exactly like the one he bought for her to wear, custom made by a tailor so that Bella and the doll would match. When that doll had gone missing, there had been no doubt that Chloe had taken it when she was visiting. Bella had refused to believe that her friend would hurt her so, and chose to believe she had simply misplaced it.

But Charles knew better. He'd heard her crying in the room she'd shared with Madeleine. She prayed to God to bring her back the doll.

Damn it all to Hell if Charles was going to see his sister hurt that way again.

"Why are you still brooding, Charles." Dad said with a chuckle, pouring himself a drink.

"I'm not." Charles replied testily. Erik sat opposite Charles, setting a drink in front of him.

"Your sister is twenty, son. She's old enough to decide for herself who to marry."

"Wasn't it just last week you were complaining about Belgrave asking for her hand?" Charles asked, sipping the whiskey. Erik's eyes darkened.

"It's different. I trust Tris." He replied.

"You shouldn't." Charles said. Erik looked a bit angry for a moment.

"Charles," He began with a sigh, "I have lived a very different life than you. You understand? People didn't accept me as they do you and your siblings. I had to work very hard for what I have today." Removing the mask, Charles didn't even blink when he saw his father's misshapen face come into view. "I learned at a young age who I could trust and whom I could not."

"I know, Dad." Charles said guiltily. "And I trust your judgment, but I worry…she's so fragile."

"Your sister is stronger than you give her credit for. Don't write her off because she is soft spoken instead of aggressive like Claire…or chatty like, Bless her, Jules." Erik's eyes were kind as he stared at his son. "You've been unhappy, Charles. You're lonely."

"I'm fine, Dad." Charles replied through gritted teeth.

"You should think about settling down with a nice—"

"Dad." Charles pleaded. "No."

"Well…I think there is something missing in your life, my boy." Erik noted. "You've been so melancholy for a few years now."

"I don't lack for female companionship." He said, regretting instantly saying it. Erik looked grim.

"You mean with Chloe Blanchard?"

"Dad." Charles felt his face tighten with anger. "I have not, nor do I ever plan on fucking that harpy."

"Good." Erik said, relief in his voice. "What then?"

"I'm perfectly happy." He said, not believing a word of it.

"Glad to hear it son." Erik said, rising. "I'd better go over the plans for tomorrow. I'm leaving sooner than planned for home. I can't stand the separation from your mother."

"You're pathetic." Charles teased his father. "How is Mother faring at home with the girls?"

"Fine." Erik sighed. "They're having dinner over the Chagnys tomorrow evening." Walking outside the door, Charles faintly heard him say, "Good night."

He could barely think, however, because panic had crept into the pit of his stomach and was working its way up quickly. Something he'd forgotten to do before leaving Paris…unfinished business. Pushing the empty glass aside he put his head in his hands and whispered,

"Emmy."

* * *

Emmeline de Chagny was tired of being afraid. She was tired of being left out and most of all, she was tired of being pushed back. Her sister had been the golden child, doted on from the beginning by their father. By the time Emmy had come along, he'd already spoiled his firstborn daughter and son, she'd just been extra baggage. Emmy knew that wasn't true, but sometimes, it felt like it. Their mother had had a rough final pregnancy and had nearly died in the hours following Emmy's birth. Their father had been beside himself with grief, she'd been told, and he hadn't left Mum's side.

Not even to see his brand new baby daughter.

Emmy had been cared for by her nurse, Therese, from the moment she was born and held a strong bond with the woman. Therese was a hearty woman with five grown children of her own, and loved Emmy as though she'd borne her from her own flesh. Of course, there was also Madame Giry, her grandmother by all means, and her Aunt Meg, who had married into a wealthy family as well. She was surrounded by love. But it seemed from the moment of her birth, that Emmeline de Chagny could not find her voice.

Emmy loved her parents dearly, but sometimes, she thought they didn't understand her. They didn't really know her. Not once had her mother ever asked about her dreams or hopes and though Emmy would never hold it against her; she couldn't push away the jealousy of her mother's relationship with Lotte. The two were very close, always huddled together. Three times already this year, Mum had gone off to England to visit Lotte and her husband, Ryan and their daughter. Since the news that golden Lotte had conceived again, Mum had been over the moon and Dad had been brimming with pride at the prospect of a brand new grandchild.

Not that Lotte and Emmy weren't close, because Emmy adored her older sister, but they were too far apart to relate to one another. Seven years was gapped between them and by the time Lotte had gotten married, Emmy had been only fifteen.

Mum never even knew that she dreamed of singing in the opera. Or that when she looked in the mirror, she was secretly proud that she looked exactly like her mother when Lotte clearly favored their Chagny aunts. So Emmy had decided this year, to stop being invisible to her parents and prove that she too was a Chagny. After she'd seen the audition notice for the opera, she'd turned to Charles for help. And now, even _he_ was too busy for her. The only comfort she received as of late, was from the Destler girls and their numerous warm hearted cousins.

Perhaps after all of her friends and family had married off, someone would be left for her. Maybe someday, someone would finally see her. Or maybe she would just live a completely unremarkable life…and _maybe_ that was supposed to be enough for her.

But it wasn't.

And maybe, _ just_ maybe, one day, she would stop hating herself for developing feelings for Charles Erik Destler.

* * *

**I'm back! (I hope) This past few months have been SO busy!!!! But I'm ready to go on with my stories full force!!!! Hope you all enjoy this. It's starting to take shape. **

**~Syd~  
**

Maybe.


	13. The Eye of the Storm

"Mademoiselle Emmeline, you have a telegram." Her family's butler, Gene said, looking a bit bemused. Emmy had never received a telegraph personally, and it was quite exciting in her opinion. Gingerly, she took the card from him.

"Why would someone telegraph me—" She cut off when she began to read it.

_EMMY STOP FORGOT TO TELL YOU I LEFT STOP HAD TO GO TO LONDON ON BUSINESS STOP PLEASE FORGIVE ME STOP CHARLES STOP_

Upset, she tore it in half and threw it in the waste basket near her desk. He decided to tell her now, the coward? He couldn't face her himself. Why had she ever asked for his help? She'd wanted so badly to make her parents proud of her that she'd concocted the idea to try out for the opera! Who was she kidding? Sure, she could sing, but she wasn't her Mum. Christine de Chagny was legend in Paris and if her less talented daughter went to the opera and got cast, she would never be able to live up to anyone's expectations. She would be worse off than she had been before.

"Emmy, love?" Mum entered her room with a worried look on her face.

"Hello Mum." Emmy said, pretending to be looking for a book to read.

"Gene said you seemed upset. Are you well?" Christine asked, sliding her arm around Emmy's waist. Emmy wanted to lean into her mother and cry on her shoulder, but she had never felt comfortable that way.

"Oh, perfectly." She lied to her mother. "Just looking to read a book before dinner with the Destlers."

Christine nodded, eyeing her. She did not say anything though.

"Madame Blanchard told me that you had a run in with Chloe yesterday." Emmy froze. "She said you accused Chloe of being a whore." Nerves took over Emmy's body and she couldn't answer her mother, who sighed softly. "Emmeline," She chided gently, "While I understand Chloe is unpleasant to you, you have a responsibility to this family to provide an example for others."

"S-So I should have let her tell me I stink and I am st-stupid and just accept that?" Emmy felt tears well up in her eyes as Mum became blurry.

"I've never understood you Emmeline." Christine said sadly. "Everytime I try to get close to you, you pull away. I feel we barely know each other."

"P-Perhaps if you actually p-paid some attention to m-me instead of fawning over Lotte every second of her life, you might kn-know me…" Emmy sniffled, feeling her chin quiver as she took in her mother's stricken expression.

"Emmeline." Christine said, sounding horrified. "I never…"

"You do." Emmy sobbed. "You don't know it, b-but you do! Daddy d-does it too. Lotte is the little p-princess for him, Gustave is the s-son, the heir…and I'm just the leftover ch-child…"

With that, she fled from her mother, leaving Christine standing in her bedroom. She buried herself in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub and letting her tears flow. A few minutes must have gone by, because she heard her father's voice next.

"Emmy? Sweetheart?" He called, knocking lightly on the door.

"Leave me alone!" She cried angrily. After a lifetime of hiding her feelings, she didn't feel like being charitable at this moment.

"Please…" He sounded panicked. "I've never seen you this way. Open the door."

"Oh stop it, you two!" She said, lashing out at her parents. "Can't you see I don't want to talk to you?"

"Emmy…" Dad said again. He sounded hurt. Sighing in irritation, she threw the door open and brushed past both of her parents who were huddled together straight into the arms of her older brother who had heard the commotion and come into the hall. Immediately, his arms closed around her protectively.

"Em?" He asked, comforting her. She merely sobbed into his chest, catching a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. Hugging her brother, they looked like a younger version of their parents.

"I'm tired of being invisible to everyone in this family!" She burst.

"You are not—" Christine began, but Raoul stopped her.

"Christine…let her talk." Emmy met her father's eyes. They were kind and loving. Relief flooded through her as she pulled away from Gustave.

"I have always f-felt…" She looked at Gustave, who nodded supportively, "I felt like I w-wasn't as much a part of this family as everyone else." Looking at her fidgeting hands, she bit her lip. "I know I almost k-killed you when I was born, Mum."

There.

She had voiced her worst fear.

"Who told you that?" Christine whispered.

"I h-heard Therese talking to one of the maids when I was five." She admitted. "And Daddy wouldn't leave your side, not even to look at me."

"Emmy." Raoul started, stepping forward.

"…and you blamed me because Mum almost died." She breathed.

"That is," Her father said, taking her by the shoulders, "the biggest untruth I have ever heard from your lips, Emmeline."

"Untruth?" She replied in confusion.

"Mum did almost die when I was born, didn't she?"

"Yes, Emmy." Raoul replied, looking her in the eyes. "But it wasn't _your _fault." He stopped, shaking his head. Emmy could see he was trying to keep himself together. Gustave slumped uncomfortably against the wall. "You see, your mother wouldn't stop bleeding after your birth. It was nothing to do with _you_…You were an innocent little baby for goodness sake!"

"But Therese said you wouldn't see me." She sobbed. Raoul looked helplessly at Christine before turning back to Emmy.

"I _couldn't _bear it, Emmeline." He said, a tear leaving his eye as he pulled Emmy into a tight hug. "You looked exactly like her…and you were so healthy. Your voice was so strong." He smiled at the memory. "And I couldn't bear the thought of you having to live without her. So, I sat at her side and _begged _her to live. For _you_." Tilting her chin up, he looked her in the eyes. "Do you understand me, Emmeline? Lotte was the first, but you were the last. And I got my wish."

"What w-wish?" Emmy sniffed.

"When I married your mother, I wished for a little girl who looked precisely like her. I suppose I unconsciously gave you less attention because I was so worried that your siblings would realize how _special_ you were to me."

"To both of us." Christine added, coming beside them and putting her hand on the small of Emmy's back. "I never knew you felt that way. I always thought you were simply independent. I didn't know how you felt…" Raoul lifted one of his arms and let Christine into the embrace. Gustave, having good sense, had since left the scene. Emmy felt her mother stroke her hair.

"I'm sorry." Emmy whispered, feeling guilty. Raoul wiped her wet cheek with his handkerchief, releasing the embrace.

"Emmy, don't ever apologize for telling us how you feel. We do love you very much." He replied.

"We only wish you'd said something sooner, love." Christine said, keeping hold of Emmy. They were precisely the same height. Kissing Emmy's forehead and then Christine's, Raoul stepped away.

"I'm going to make sure that Gustave hasn't fled." He joked.

Christine looked into Emmy's face, cupping it in her hands.

"I think," She said, brushing the curls out of Emmy's eyes, "tomorrow, you and I will plan a special day together."

"Could we visit Aunt Meg?" She asked.

"Of course." Mum smiled at her and took her hand. "Come, let's get ready for dinner."

"Mum?" Emmy said suddenly. Christine looked at her. "I'm sorry about calling Chloe a whore…she…I'm just tired of her being so hateful to me."

"Yes well," Christine's eyes darkened. "Her mother wasn't much better. Jacqueline. She and your father were an item before he and I met again…"

"Daddy and Madame Blanchard?" Emmy asked incredulously. "But she's so horrid."

"Jacqueline was quite beautiful when she was young. Years of being spoiled and pampered and fed turned her into a fat house cat." Emmy gasped at her mother's description. She almost sounded…_jealous._

"It was a long time ago…and besides…" Christine went on, "She obviously got what she deserved."

Amused, Emmy followed her mother into the bedroom to get ready for dinner.

* * *

Gustave waited patiently near the door to the dining room for his parents to usher the Destler women in. He'd been brimming to see Claire all day long. He could hear the girls chattering away in the foyer while his parents spoke with Madame Destler. After his sister's outburst earlier, an overall relief settled over the household and, if the servants had heard, they made no sign of it. He was rather hoping they would all hurry up and get into the dining room, however, since he was quite hungry.

Politely, he greeted all of them in succession. First, ten year old Esme, followed by Julienne and their mother, Madame Destler. Finally, Claire approached him. She'd hung back and watched him, no doubt scrutinizing his every movement. She nodded at him casually.

"Monsieur le Vicomte." She said. He rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Claire." He said testily. She smirked, her green eyes flashing with challenge. He'd never wanted to drag a girl to his bedroom more than he did at that moment.

"Very well then, Gustave." She amended, walking past him with aloofness to rival a queen. Her sister Julienne gave him an apologetic look. He smiled warmly at her and took his place across from Claire. She pointedly averted her eyes from his. The satiny black hair on her head was pinned, elegant as always, at the nape of her neck. There was a certain uncalculated look to her appearance that made her even lovelier. Many girls meticulously dressed themselves down to the last detail, but Claire carried herself as she was comfortable. She was highly independent, he could see, and it was admirable. She never hung on his arm, or spoke in a weak voice. She was assertive and fierce as a lion. Especially when it came to her sisters.

"…yes, we received news today that our Bella will be married soon as well." Madame Destler was saying. Gustave's mother made a noise of approval.

"Oh, I am glad. We do so adore Bella. Who is she betrothed to?" She asked, sipping her white wine. Dad looked interested as well.

"Not Gaston Belgrave?" He asked. Madame Destler's eyes widened slightly and she shook her head.

"No…it's Tristan Coolidge." She explained. A smile crept into his mother's eyes and he could see the romantic wheels in her head turning.

" I _knew_ he admired her." She said proudly. Madame Destler nodded.

"I thought so too. But with Charles around, any man would be afraid to fancy one of my girls." She laughed fondly. Claire rolled her eyes.

"He's a bloody nuisance if you ask me." She replied. "He thinks all of us are stupid and helpless."

"He's only protective." Emmy said gently, patting Claire's hand. "He loves you." Madame Destler's eyes lingered on Emmy a moment and he thought a slight smile threatened at the corners of her lips.

"How are you faring without Erik?" Mum asked Madame Destler, who sighed.

"It's harder than I thought." She admitted as her daughter's shared a unified look of exasperation. "We've barely been apart for the past twenty-six years."

"He's coming home soon, Mama." Julienne pointed out, looking at Gustave's mother. "He couldn't handle the separation either." Claire smirked and Esme sighed.

"Well, I miss him too!" She said indignantly. Christine smiled at her.

"She is so like him." She said to Madame Destler. "Precocious."

"To a fault." Madame Destler agreed. Gustave turned his attention to Claire, who was half heartedly dipping her spoon into her soup. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up.

_What?_ She mouthed testily to him.

_How are you?_ He mouthed back.

_Fine._

_Can we talk? _He asked her silently. Ever so slightly, she nodded.

_Later._

She was so very different from every girl he'd courted. Claire Destler did not like compliments…she questioned _everything_…and she was stubborn as a bull. But he loved that about her. Because of her beauty, she could have been an entirely different person. Her humility was astounding. He loved that she wasn't just beautiful…

Dinner could not have ended sooner for him. He practically ran into the music room with her on his heels afterward.

"What is so urgent that you needed to speak with me?" She asked quietly.

"I wanted to see how you were feeling after the episode yesterday." He replied. Staring blankly at him, he added, "The storm."

"Oh!" She nodded. "Much better, thank you." Her eyes caught on something and he noticed a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"What?" He asked suspiciously.

"Did you say you play the violin?" She asked, tilting her head. Dread filled him.

"I used to." He tried to explain. "It's been a very long time." She smiled at him.

"Would you play for me?" She asked. He shook his head.

"I can barely remember how." He lied. His fingers twitched, even now, missing the feel of those strings.

"Liar." She smiled. He loved her smile. She did it so rarely, it was like a cloudy day when the sun makes an unexpected appearance. "If you play for me, I'll play the piano for you."

"Deal." He agreed, ready to submit to her every whim…ready to beg her to let him obey her for the rest of his life. Sitting on the piano bench, he lifted his beautiful violin, brushing off some of the dust that had gathered on it since his last time playing. Quickly, he tuned it and set it beneath his chin. It fit perfectly as always. He began to play a sad song he'd learned as a child and it felt like he'd never stopped. Though he'd disliked the fact that he felt like his mother wanted him to become her father, the violin had always been his escape. He felt at home when he was playing it, and when he finished, Claire was looking at him with a small smile on her face.

"You _are _a liar, Gustave de Chagny." She teased as he set it aside.

"Your turn." He said, gesturing to the piano. With a confident grin, she sat and began playing an upbeat waltz. Her fingers glided over the keys with ease, though he wasn't surprised. Every last Destler was musically inclined down to little Esme. Afterward, she turned to sit facing him. Her silvery green eyes were light with amusement.

"I'm not as good as Charles, but then again, I'm not an obsessive perfectionist." She laughed. Gustave grinned at her.

"You're great at it. Better than me on my wonky old fiddle." He chuckled.

"You should play more often." She said, standing. "I can see how much you love it." He shrugged, tensing as she neared him. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Gustave had finally mustered up the courage to go in for a kiss, when her little sister, Esme, ran into the room.

"Claire, were you playing?" She asked. Gustave couldn't even be upset. Esme was adorable with her two long, coppery braids and her pretty little pinafore.

"Yes, we were just playing around, love." She replied. Esme smiled.

"Well, Mama told me to tell you it's time to go. Jules isn't feeling well." Esme said. Claire nodded.

"Well," She said after the girl left. "Thank you for showing me…"

"Claire?" He began. He could see a conflicted look in her eyes, but she bit her bottom lip and gave him a quick hug.

"I'll see you." She said softly, turning to leave. She was all the way to the door when she turned back around and walked to directly to him, standing on her toes to kiss him on the lips firmly. Without another word, she pulled away and left quickly. Gustave stood in the music room with a stupid grin on his face, touching his tingling lips.

It was there that his little sister found him, gave him a bemused look and shook her head before leaving the room.

* * *

Bella's head was all a jumble. So many things had happened in the week since she'd arrived in London that she could barely see straight. A shiny new engagement ring sat on her left finger now, glittering in the daylight. Aunt Bianca had seen that Bella was dressed as befitted a future Marchioness. To be honest, Bella was quite uncomfortable with it. She'd never had to put so much effort into her appearance. Her hair now had to be pinned in pristine, glossy curls. Her dresses had to be pressed and laid perfectly. And never was she to leave the house without a hat pinned onto her head and gloves on her hand.

She hadn't seen Tris in two days because of his obligations and though he assured her every time they saw each other that he adored her, she still felt the fear of everything being too good to be true gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

At least Charles had been nicer to Tris lately, though his mood was still black and she, for the life of her, could not tell why. Dad was preparing to return home, and she was preparing to return with him to gather her things together so that she could move to London after she married Tris. They had decided that a quick wedding within the next two months would be necessary due to Tris's obligations.

She had not met Tris's mother yet, though not for lack of trying. Every time Tris arranged for her to meet Bella, the Marchioness was mysteriously busy. Tris explained it away, but Bella knew better. The Marchioness was not happy with her only son's choice of bride. First of all, she was French, and the Marchioness believed insistently that British aristocrats should marry other British aristocrats. Second, Bella was not exactly peerage material. She was not graceful…or beautiful…she could play the piano and sing, but she didn't know the first thing about British etiquette. In fact, if it wasn't for her admiration of Tris, she probably would have retreated home by now. She did adore him, and was at this moment, sitting rigidly upright – due to her corset – waiting for his arrival for afternoon tea with her.

"Isabella Rose Destler, what can you possibly be thinking?" She looked up to see her incipient husband casually leaning against the doorway with his arms folded lazily over his chest. She smiled sheepishly.

"Nothing really." With much effort, she managed to stand and walk over to him so she could kiss his cheek. The devil turned his face, however, and stole a kiss on her lips. Her eyes widened, scandalized, but she could not deny the rush of arousal at the velvety feel of his lips.

"You're blushing." He grinned down at her, leading her to the loveseat to sit with her. "I've missed you these past two days, love." As always she felt a rush of joy when he called her "love."

"I missed you too." She said, holding his hand. He studied her for a moment before frowning.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking worried.

"Nothing." She replied, biting her lip. She really was terrible at lying. Everyone could always tell.

"Isabella Coolidge, you tell me right now what's wrong." He said, teasing her by giving her his last name. She felt her face heat up again.

"I just…I'm so afraid this is all a dream. And I'm going to wake up in my bed at home tomorrow with you still here. And I'll have to go back to being alone…and I—"

"Stop." He said gently. "This _is_ real. It's happening and soon, you are going to be _my_ wife." Holding her chin in his hand, he leaned in to kiss her again, but was interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Looking up, Bella saw her brother standing there…or looming was more like it. He scowled.

"Charles." Tris said amiably. Charles nodded at him.

"I am returning home with you and Dad." He informed Bella. Her eyes widened in confusion.

"Who is going to oversee the construction?"

"Dad assigned the project to one of his architects, who is going to give detailed reports of progress to us."

"Why the sudden return, Charles?" Tris asked, removing Bella's glove and twining his fingers with hers. She loved the warmth of his smooth palm.

"I had forgotten to close up a business deal before I left last week." Charles explained, helping himself to some scones.

"Ah." Tris said, uninterested in his friend's failed business deal. Charles looked absolutely irritated as he made to leave. "I think I liked you better when you were cavorting with the likes of Chloe Blanchard."

Bella felt herself stiffen and let go of Tris's hand, remembering when her brother had said Tris had had relations with Chloe.

"Bella?" His green eyes shone with panic.

"Did you…?" She began but could not make out the words.

"Did I what, love?" He asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Did you sleep with Chloe?" She asked, causing Tris to choke.

"_What?_" He cried. "Who told you that?"

"No one said _that…_" She replied, feeling stupid and insecure. "But Charles had hinted before that you had been with her." He looked a bit ashamed if she were being honest with herself.

"No." He replied firmly. "Never. She begged for me to, but I told her no. That was after she kissed your brother, who may I add, was so drunk that he didn't know his own name." Bella breathed in relief.

"Oh…well, that's good." She said lamely. He remained unconvinced.

"Oh God." He said in realization. "What did she do to you?"

"Nothing." Bella said, waving it off. "We were children. It hardly signifies."

"Tell me, Bella." He said, taking off her other glove.

"She…well…I don't know for _sure_, but when I was ten, we were friends. She came to my home and it was suspected that she stole a very special doll of mine." Bella sighed. "Dad bought it for me in Italy because he said it looked like me, and it had a dress just like one I owned and everything…and Chloe was jealous, I think."

"That sounds like her." Tris agreed. He held Bella's hand between both of his. "Fate has a way of coming back to haunt those who are unkind, Bella."

"Yes…" Bella greed. "I only wish I still had that doll…she was very dear to me. But I think what hurt the worst was that I really thought Chloe was my friend."

"Don't worry, love." Tris said, drawing her into his warmth. "I'm going to love you so well when we marry, you won't even _think_ of Chloe."

This time, she kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck. Unfortunately, it didn't last long, because she lost her breath again due to the blasted corset. They both began to laugh.


	14. Secrets

"Do you ever stop eating?" Lillian asked James in irritation as he wolfed down yet another sandwich. Claire sat beside James, trying not to chuckle as he reached for another. His mother, noticing that half of her luncheon display was missing, cast a suspicious eye on her son.

"James Westcliff, put the cucumber sandwich _down_." She ordered, snatching the platter away from the ravenous young man. He grinned up at her rakishly.

"We have guests, James. Control yourself." She warned through gritted teeth.

"I'm hungry, Mother." He said in an innocent voice. His mother's dark eyes flashed with amusement.

"You'll live. Where did your father get off to?" She inquired, setting another tray of desserts on the table. Claire glanced at her mother, who was re-braiding Esme's wild locks.

"No idea, actually." James replied with a shrug. "Went somewhere with Uncle Andrew, I suppose." Lillian smacked at his hand as he reached for a cookie.

"You're insatiable!" She hissed, her blue eyes blazing. He waggled his eyebrows seductively at her.

"You have no idea, Lily." He said. Claire shook her head and stifled a grin. She had no idea why, but she was in a terrific mood and even though it was usually obnoxious watching Lillian and James fight, it was hilarious to her today. "Would you like to find out?"

"You are despicable, James Westcliff." She said, but did not get up and leave. In fact, Claire suspected that Lillian wanted nothing more than for James Westcliff to show her just how insatiable he was.

"But deep down, you like it." He challenged. She clamped her mouth shut and ripped the cookie out of his hand, biting into it furiously. With a shrug he made to take another when his mother surprised him by approaching the table and tapping his hand with hers again.

"Go sit on the sofa, James." She warned. Claire admired Madame Westcliff. She was of mixed descent, part Persian actually. Nadir and Roger were very close with her and she was always very warm to her parents. Madame Westcliff was the daughter of an archaeologist, so she had been all over the world with her father. Many of his artifacts were in their home, which was part of the reason that Claire loved visiting them. She had married Justin Westcliff, who was the son of one of the wealthiest businessmen in Paris. Claire's father had designed their new home when she had been a baby.

James knew better than to defy his strong willed mother, who would have scared any man out of his wits. Claire aspired to be like Madame Westcliff when she was married. Monsieur Westcliff was a blond gentleman, who was funny and it was easy to see who James took after in personality. James had not inherited the dark skin of his mother, but he had inherited her ebony hair. His hair was so black, sometimes it seemed blue.

Lillian had always been cross with James, ever since Claire could remember. It was just the way things were between them. And if either of them ever admitted that one was terribly in love with the other, Claire couldn't imagine the consequences. It would almost be wrong to see Lillian and James being nice to each other. She smiled to herself, thinking about it. Everyone else in the world could tell James fancied Lillian, but she would never admit that she felt the same. It also didn't help that each of them had an infamous temper.

"Oh, what are you so chipper about, Claire?" Lily asked moodily, scowling as James pulled out the chess set.

"Nothing." Claire replied, almost wincing at the dreamy sound of her own voice.

"Ready for a rematch, Holden?" James challenged Lillian. She stared at him in disbelief.

"What is it Westcliff? Can't accept that I defeated you last time?" Her lips twitched into a smirk. "Twice." James's eyes darkened.

"Fluke." He dismissed. "What's the matter, you afraid?"

"Never." Lillian growled and the two began an intricate, intense, completely ridiculous chess game in the middle of Madame Westcliff's parlor. Seeing this, Roxana Westcliff rolled her eyes and shared a look with Lillian's mother, Aunt Fern.

"Here we go again." Fern muttered. The doorbell rang and a moment later, the Reynolds family were shown in.

"Brett, Meg…" Roxana said, kissing Meg's cheek. Simon and his two younger sisters followed their parents into the room. Claire discreetly glanced at her sister, Julienne, who was blushing furiously at the sight of the brawny blond boy.

"You cheat!" Lillian accused loudly, standing and pointing her finger in James's face.

"I think _not_," James countered, folding his arms.

"Oh for goodness sake, Lillian." Aunt Fern said with a sigh. "It's just a game."

"Put that away, James." Roxana instructed, giving him a glare that would have rivaled Medusa.

"Fine." He pouted. "This isn't over, Holden."

"Oh _believe _me. I know." She spat, turning back to Claire. "Did you hear that Emmy called Chloe a whore?" Julienne, hearing this, practically leapt across the room.

"I heard that!" She whispered. "She said it to her _face._"

"Emmy." Claire replied incredulously. "_Our_ Emmy?"

"Yes!" Lillian whispered. "And she told her mother, who had a big argument with the Comtess!"

"Apparently, Madame Blanchard and the Comte were once betrothed before the Comte married the Comtess." Julienne added excitedly.

"The Comte was going to marry Madame Blanchard?" Claire asked in disgust, thinking of the vile, repulsive, indulgent woman who had spawned Chloe.

"And Madame Blanchard told the Comtess that she was jealous because _her_ daughter was actually sought after by men—"

"For favors." Claire muttered.

"Even so…she said that men run at the sight of Emmy because she's an invalid who can barely speak."

"Emmy only stammers when she's nervous!" Claire defended furiously.

"I know!" Julienne cried. "But Madame Blanchard wants people to think Emmy is damaged because she is still bitter about losing the Comte."

"I'll bet the Comte isn't so sore about losing _her_ though." Claire quipped. The three of them laughed. "She's disgusting."

"Remember when she tried to get Dad to lower the price of her addition on her home by wearing a low cut dress?" Julienne replied, unable to hold back her laughter now.

"Yes!" Claire giggled. "And Daddy came home looking green and confessed to Mama and she wasn't even angry. She just laughed!" Lillian wiped the tears coming from her eyes. Claire stopped, noticing Emmy standing in the doorway and waved her over. She didn't see Gustave walk in with their parents, but he was sure to be there somewhere. The thought of it made her heart flip. Shaking her head, she brushed off the feeling of glee at the other night's dinner.

"What are you talking about?" Emmy asked, settling into the circle. Claire squeezed her hand.

"About how you told off Chloe and none of us were even there to see it!" She said. Emmy turned a deep shade of pink.

"How do you know about it?" Emmy whispered to them.

"_Apparently, _Marie told Clemence, who told Elaine, who told Jane and Lucy, who of course, told me." Lillian replied, looking at Julienne. "Who told you?"

"Simon." She said, reddening.

"When did you and Simon see each other…?" Claire asked pointedly. Julienne shrugged. "I was in town with Mama visiting Maddie yesterday and he was with James."

"_James_ knows too?" Emmy asked, hiding her face in embarrassment.

"Everyone is extremely impressed." Julienne assured her. "You know that no one likes Chloe."

"She's been after Gustave for ages." Emmy said, annoyed. Claire felt a pang of anger seep into her body.

"Charles too." Julienne agreed, and Claire saw Emmy go pale. She had suspected that Emmy liked Charles, but she could never be sure. Emmy was simply an affectionate, sweet person.

"If Charles ever married Chloe, I would disown him." Claire said disdainfully and Lillian laughed.

"I wouldn't blame you. I'm glad my little brothers are too young for her." Lillian replied.

"I don't think age matters to her." Emmy said quietly. "I wouldn't put it past her to marry a ten year old if money were involved." All four of them laughed and Julienne sighed.

"I miss Bella." She mused. "Home isn't home without Bella." Claire nodded.

"I can't believe she's marrying Tris." Shaking her head, she added, "Wait till Chloe hears that one."

"She is going to be so green with envy, she'll throw up." Emmy replied.

"That, I'd like to see." Claire laughed. Emmy's chocolate colored eyes were full of mischief.

"Me too." She whispered. Then she turned and looked at her brother. "Speaking of odd…the other night, I found Gustave in the music room grinning like an idiot." Her eyes flitted to Claire. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Claire said, perhaps a bit quickly to be truly convincing. Julienne's lips twisted into a wry smile as she shared a grin with Lillian. Emmy's eyes widened.

"Did he finally shape up and decide to court you?" She whispered, eyeing her older brother, who was speaking with James and Simon. Claire saw him look at Emmy and raise an eyebrow, bemused. She merely shook her head.

"He never had to…shape up." Claire defended him.

"Oh yes he did." She insisted, sounding more confident than Claire had ever heard her. "All those years ignoring you…he needed to."

"He wasn't tied to me, Em." Claire pointed out. "I fancied him as a girl. Nothing more."

"And now?" She asked with a small smile. The innocent little brat was really deceitful sometimes.

"He's very sweet." Claire allowed. "We had lunch. Once."

"And?" Julienne asked, dying for details. Claire glared at her.

"And _you_ are a sneaky little liar, Julienne Olivia Destler." Claire replied at her sister. "You told him what I liked and where to take me."

"And if I hadn't?" Jules asked with a huge smile. All three of the other girls stared at her expectantly.

"He probably would have failed miserably." She answered in defeat.

"Did you let him kiss you?" Julienne demanded. Emmy looked uncomfortable.

"I don't think I want to hear this…" She said, brushing a curl out of her eye.

"I'm not telling." Claire said, standing and leaving the three of them to chatter. She decided to join the boys, strange as it was to stand near Gustave after behaving so wantonly the other night.

"Hello Claire." Simon said, beaming down at her. She looked from him to Gustave, who looked sheepish.

He'd told them.

Damn him.

"Simon." She said, taking his hand before turning to Gustave with gritted teeth. "Vicomte." He reddened.

* * *

**Fifteen minutes prior.**

Gustave followed his parents into the Westcliff's house to celebrate James's graduation from college. He was a mix of nerves and excitement for he knew the Destlers were going to be there. Perhaps Claire would wear yellow…or God forbid, green. He hadn't been able to get her off of his mind since they had come to dinner two nights before. He greeted Madame Westcliff first before Claire's mother and Madame Holden. He had just noticed the three girls huddled together in the corner when Simon had dragged him to the other corner where James was standing.

"Look at that bloody shrew." James was muttering to himself.

"Lillian beat you at chess again?" Simon asked, giving Gustave a knowing look.

"No…I beat her. She accused me of cheating at it!" He protested. Gustave raised an eyebrow.

"Did you?" He asked and James shrugged.

"She's brilliant. I can't beat her." He replied helplessly.

"When is she going to realize she's mad for you?" Simon asked with a chuckle. James glared at him. "Oh, don't look like that, Westcliff. You've wanted to screw her brains out since you realized she was a female."

"Don't talk about her that way." James warned. Gustave just smiled and let his gaze flicker over to where Claire was talking heatedly about something with the other three girls."

"Not that she's not pretty. Lil is gorgeous…but—"

"Shut _up_." James growled. "Why don't you bother Gustave? He took Claire to lunch three days ago." Simon's eyes became interested as he turned to Gustave.

"Oh no." Gustave said, seeing his friend's intent.

"She's a pistol." Simon pointed out.

"Believe me, I know." Gustave replied.

"Girls who have tempers like that I've heard are like nuns in bed." Simon said, obviously trying to get a reaction out of Gustave.

It worked.

"She is not a _nun_!" Gustave said angrily. Simon grinned.

"I _knew_ it!" He said and even James looked more cheerful. "You didn't sleep with her?"

"Of course not." Gustave said. "Nothing more than a couple of kisses." He stopped himself.

He hadn't meant to say that.

"You are now the envy of every red blooded man in Paris." Simon said proudly.

"Stop." Gustave said, seeing Claire get up out of the corner of his eye.

Oh no.

Simon grinned so wide, Gustave wanted to punch him.

"Hello Claire." He said and she began to smile, but stopped and very slowly, let her eyes wander to Gustave, who felt his cheeks heat. Anger came into her green eyes as she crossed her arms.

"Simon." She replied in acknowledgement, squeezing his hand. Then, she turned to Gustave. "Vicomte." Spinning on her heel, she walked out of the parlor, her shoes clicking on the floor.

"Damn." He muttered to himself, running after her and ignoring his friends' guffaws. She spun on him halfway through, however and pursued him. He backed away from her, almost afraid until he hit the wall.

"How _could_ you?" She asked, now sounding hurt. "How could you talk about me like that with your friends?"

"It wasn't like that, Claire." He tried to explain. "It just slipped out."

"I'm so glad I can give you men a topic of conversation!" She spat.

"Claire, I'm—"

"Sorry?" She asked. "I would _never_ flaunt our relationship that way." Stopping, she looked up at him, wounded. "What did you make a bet with Jamie and Simon about making the poor idiot who fancied you her whole life look like an even bigger idiot?" She sniffled and he realized, in horror, that she was close to tears as she brushed past him.

* * *

Claire Destler felt like an idiot. She hid herself in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her head in her hands. Angry tears left her eyes and fell like little betraying puddles on the smooth wood. She'd overreacted, she knew it…and she was embarrassed. After wearing her heart on her sleeve for her whole life, she felt like a complete idiot for letting it happen again. Gustave was not perfect…and she had to remind herself of that fact because it was very hard not to keep him on the pedestal that she had placed him on as a girl. She could not hold him to an unrealistic standard.

"Claire, darling?" Feverishly, Claire wiped her eyes at the sound of Madame Westcliff's voice as she entered the room.

"Oh…sorry…" Claire said, unable to disguise the nasally, tear soaked sound of her voice.

"Are you crying, love?" Madame Westcliff asked, sitting beside her.

"No." Claire replied, feeling her chin betray her and quiver.

"Oh, darling…" Madame Westcliff said gently, reaching out to smooth Claire's black hair. "Tell me what happened…" Her amber eyes narrowed. "It wasn't James, was it?"

"N-no!" Claire assured her, sniffling. Gratefully, she accepted the cloth that the woman gave her.

"What would you do if you kissed a boy and…and…" She let her voice fall to a whisper. "He told his friends?" Roxana Westcliff's eyes widened knowingly.

"Oh…" She said, understanding. Sighing, she took Claire's hand gingerly in her own. "Sweetheart…I know you're angry…and it is hurtful, but men…well, they just don't understand the rules." She smiled. "Not that we should let them get away with it."

"What should I do?" Claire asked, wiping her nose. Roxana gently used her thumb to wipe under Claire's eyes. Looking into Claire's eyes, Roxana smiled.

"Give him Hell."

* * *

"I've never been so nervous in all my life." Bella said to Tris as they sat and waited for his mother to join them for dinner.

"Relax, love." Tris assured her. "I know she's awful, but after we're married, you won't have to see her too often." He looked at the door.

"Where are we going to live, Tris?" Bella asked, fidgeting with her gloves.

"Well, I have many obligations in London now…so we'll have to remain here." At her stricken look, he added quickly, "But if it's too much for you…you can go to Paris as often as you'd like…and I could come visit you…if you need to live near your mother, I—"

She took his hand, quieting him. Her brown eyes were warm with affection.

"I'm marrying you, Tris." She said. "I want to live where you live…" Relief flooded through his chest. "I will miss Mama and Dad, but you are going to be my family…you and our children." Her cheeks turned delightfully pink at the mention of children.

"How many children?" He asked, studying her. Biting her bottom lip, she smiled.

"At least two. A little boy and a little girl…" A dreamy look came into her eyes and Tris felt a warmth flow through him to the bottom of his feet as he took her hand.

"And what shall we call this little boy and little girl?" He teased, stroking a stray hair from her forehead. Her eyebrows furrowed together for a moment.

"Nessa, for the girl." She said. A small smile played at his lips.

"Irish." He pointed out. Nodding, she turned even pinker.

"I…know that you are Irish…so I thought—"

"It's beautiful." He agreed. "And the boy?"

"Edward." She replied.

"My middle name…" He laughed. Shrugging, she said, "I thought we could simply switch it for him. Edward Tristan."

"You've given this some thought." Tris said, playing with her fingers.

"Some." Bella agreed, smiling at him. A waiter cleared his throat, motioning for Tris to join him.

"One moment, sweetheart." He told Bella, kissing her forehead and following the waiter out of her hearing range.

"What's wrong?" He demanded. The man sighed apologetically.

"The Marchioness has sent a message for you." The man handed Tris a folded note.

_Tristan, _

_Unfortunately, I will not be joining you for dinner with that woman you think you're going to marry. I will not watch you destroy your life and title. Mark my words, Tristan, this will end badly. _

_Mother. _

In an intense effort to hide his rage, he turned away so Bella could not see him rip the note to shreds and hand it back to the waiter.

"Burn this." He instructed and walked back to Bella with a sinking feeling.

"What's the matter, Tris?" She asked. Her eyes were so wide and sweet that it broke his heart to tell her that his mother wasn't coming after she had so painstakingly gotten ready for this.

"My mother…is ill." He said.

"Oh no." She replied, genuinely worried. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I damn well hope not." He muttered under his breath as he took her hand and kissed it.


	15. Enlightened

"Charles, you have a telegram."

Charles looked up from the work he was not paying attention to and snatched the card from his father, who had a smug smirk on his face.

"From Mademoiselle de Chagny." He added for good measure. Sitting across from Charles, Erik sighed. "What's going on with the two of you?"

"Nothing, Dad." Charles muttered. "Especially not now."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow. Charles considered for a moment and decided to tell his father the truth.

"Emmy came to me and asked for my help." He began. Erik nodded.

"Go on…" He said, sounding suspicious. Sighing, Charles ran a hand through his thick hair.

"She wanted me to teach her how to sing." He confessed, seeing the slight look of alarm in his father's eyes.

"Why didn't she just ask her mother?" Erik asked, crossing his legs. "Christine knows as much about music as any good teacher."

"Yes, well…I don't exactly know." Charles replied, standing and setting the telegram aside. "We only had one lesson and then…well, I had to come here."

"I see."

"She wanted to audition for the opera." Charles continued cautiously, observing his father's look of surprise.

"Really?" Erik asked, impressed. "I never thought little Emmy was passionate about the music."

"She's just really shy." Charles replied defensively. "Well anyhow, I mucked it up. I forgot to tell her I was leaving and now—"

"The auditions are in a bit over a month and here you are and there she is." Erik finished for him, understanding. Charles frowned, looking back at the unread telegram.

"She probably hates me." He said, shaking his head in defeat.

"Probably." Erik agreed, getting up. "But she'll forgive you." He walked to the door. "In the meantime," He paused, "Do try not to obsess over her too much." With a wink, he was gone. Irritated, Charles sat back at the desk and picked up the telegram.

_CHARLES STOP I'VE DECIDED TO GIVE UP ON SINGING STOP YOU ARE FORGIVEN STOP EMMELINE STOP_

No.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be so angry at him that she would throw things at him, not give up! Never give up! A horrible mix of anger and panic swept through him as he gathered up his things. Rising, he ran to the door and threw it open.

"Dad!" He called, hoping his father was still close by. Erik had only gotten a few doors down and turned.

"Son?" He asked knowingly. Charles hated that.

"I'm coming home too. I have some unfinished business to attend to." He said, catching up to him out of breath.

"I thought you might." Erik said, nodding.

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

The sky looked forebodingly dark as Bella prepared to accompany her father and brother home. Dad was intensely instructing the man he had appointed to oversee the remainder of Lady Easton's project. The poor man looked like he wanted to hide in a hole. Charles's expression was reminiscent to their father's face when he was extremely close to, as Mama liked to call it, pitching a fit. Bella clutched her hat to her head as a strong and chilly gust of wind came off the water. She and Tris had said their goodbyes already this morning, which had been hard enough. He'd been unable to accompany them to the docks due to an obligation with his mother, whom Bella still had not met. It made her very uncomfortable, if truth be told, that the woman seemed uninterested in her. Tris tried to hide it, but Bella knew better. The Marchioness of Keating was unhappy with her son's choice of bride.

Not that Bella blamed her.

She knew that even though Tris was sweet enough to see past her mediocrity, that nothing had really changed. And who was she even kidding? Once they were married, even more people would criticize him for picking such an unimpressive girl. She would be called a gold digger…or worse, someone would think he had compromised her and been forced to marry her.

They would pity Tris for being married to a nobody.

It gnawed at her constantly…the fear.

"Bella!" She looked up, thinking of how vague Charles's voice sounded among the people at the docks. He wasn't even looking at her, however, and was far too close to have been so distant. Confused, she turned and saw Tris's familiar reddish hair in the crowd. His eyes were wide and desperate and his face was pale with panic. Pushing his way along, he stumbled through the crowd until he got to her. She could only stare at him with her eyes widened in surprise.

"Tris?"

"I'm here." He said, trying to breathe. Trying to smile, she took one of his hands.

"How…?"

"I had to see you one more time…I had to—" He stopped, looking at the sky pensively. "I don't know. I don't know how to say goodbye."

"It's not _really_ goodbye, is it?" She asked, trying to hide how upset she was. "Look, Tris…" She began, and he met her eyes, troubled. "I…If this doesn't work out, I'll underst—"

"What are you talking about?" He cut her off, a pained look in his green eyes. "Bella, are you having doubts, because I couldn't bear it if—"

"No!" She insisted. "But…it's just…" Sighing, she felt her chin quiver momentarily. "Your mother doesn't like me." Before he could protest, she smiled at him. "I can tell…because if she was really happy about this engagement, she would have met me immediately. I'm not kidding myself Tris." She shook her head. "I know I'm not what everyone expected for you."

"You're everything I ever dreamed of." He replied as his eyes darkened. She could see the beginning of tears starting to form in them. Blinking rapidly, he tried to hide it. Not wanting to worry him anymore, she smiled up at him and touched his cheek.

"I know." Her voice was gentle, masking the uneasiness she felt. "I'm just going to miss you is all." She added. Tris wrapped his arms around her in a crushing embrace and she could feel him trembling.

"Don't go…" He whispered raggedly. "Please."

"It's only for a little while and then I will be coming back." Bella reminded Tris as they stood at the dock. He looked like he might be sick.

"I have a terrible feeling about this, Bella. I think you should stay." He clasped both of her hands in his. They were cold.

"Don't worry," She comforted. "What could possibly happen?" Tris's face was pale as his eyes moved to where Charles was staring at them with the watchful eye of an overprotective older brother.

"I want to kiss you," He whispered, "But I think Charles would die of a heart attack." She turned to look and smiled fondly at the sight of her sullen brother. Poor Charles.

"Bless him." She said fondly, turning back to Tris. "Will you write to me?"

"Yes. Of course." He answered, kissing her gloved hand. "Only don't forget me." She laughed, shaking her head.

"How could I ever?"

"Just don't…don't go letting Gaston Belgrave sweet talk you into anything." He pleaded.

"You're worried, _I'll_ lose interest?" She asked in disbelief, her brown eyes watering. "I'm lucky you even noticed me…with my sisters, anybody could forget me."

"Bella, you've driven me mad for four years. It took me that long to _get_ you. Of course I'm worried!" He said.

"It's going to be fine." Bella assured him. Looking again at Charles, he exhaled deeply.

"Sod Charles." He muttered and tilted her chin up to kiss her as if he would never see her again. "You'd better go. I wouldn't want the boat to leave without you." He said, and she heard his voice break.

"Soon." She assured him, walking with him to her father and brother.

"Take care Tris." Erik said, shaking his hand. His eyes were kind when he met his daughter's.

"I will, sir." He replied, turning to Charles.

"Friends?" Tris asked him. Charles nodded, shaking his hand.

"Friends." He agreed. Finally, Tris kissed Bella's hand before letting go so that the three of them could board the boat. Once on the deck, she turned to look for him again in the crowd.

He was still standing there.

* * *

ONE HOUR EARLIER

Tristan Edward Coolidge, Marquis of Keating , sat in the parlor of his childhood home, waiting for his mother to grace him with her presence. She had requested his company earlier that morning, before he'd said goodbye to his fiancée, stating it was of the greatest importance. So, what little time he did have left with Bella had been cut even shorter because of his mother's selfishness. Even more irritating, she was thirty-seven minutes late. He began to pace furiously, waiting for the sound of her heels to echo through the house.

At exactly forty-two minutes late, the Marchioness swept in, sweeping a glare at her only child.

"I have business to discuss with you, Tristan." She barked at him. "As you know, I am against this marriage between you and the French girl."

"Really Mother, you have the subtlety of an angry bull." He snapped, folding his arms and towering over her. Her green eyes, identical to his, blazed.

"Do you honestly think this is going to work out?" She asked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"It _is _going to work out." He insisted, feeling like he used to when she would belittle him as a child. "I am going to marry Isabella Destler."

"No." The Marchioness said bitingly. "I am going to do everything in my power to keep you from destroying this title. I have spent my life raising you to be a Marquis…and to shame your father that way—"

"My father cared nothing for me!" Tris railed at her, growing hot with anger. "And neither do you!"

"Tristan, you are so naïve…everything has always been about love for you. I have tried to teach you that there are more important things to worry about, but you have never understood. Give up this idiotic dream!"

"Burn in Hell…" He growled at her, clenching his fists.

"You leave me no choice. Don't you see? That girl doesn't love you! She thinks if you marry her that she'll actually be somebody special! She stupidly thinks if you marry her that she will matter."

"Get out…" He said, trying to breathe through his rage.

"She'll never marry you!" The Marchioness hissed, as Tris stormed past her, hearing her scream out, "I'll make sure of it."

Slamming the door behind him, he ran to the stables and quickly saddled one of the horses. He had to see her before she left, because though he would never admit it, his mother's words rang over and over again.

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER

Tris, in a panic, returned to his house and buried himself in his study with a bottle of brandy. The look in Bella's eyes had scared the hell out of him, not to mention, her having doubts. Between Bella and his mother, Tris had no idea what he'd gotten himself into and panic had started to creep into him.

What had he done? Letting her leave that way…watching her sail away from him, his own newfound doubts consumed them.

London society was going to rip Bella apart, his mother was right about that. Not, he thought, because she was unattractive, but because she was _good._ High society hated people who were infinitely good. He would have to spend his life protecting her from people who would prey on her. And if that wasn't enough, she was French, which was even more difficult to see past.

Lotte de Chagny had married a Duke, but she had also been raised in England. Lotte was strong…she'd always been made to believe that she was perfect. Bella, he knew, had insecurities. Her guileless innocence was so easy to attack. Tris was worried for her.

Feverishly, he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a quick letter to her. Tris could not stand it any longer. He had panicked.

He called in the butler and handed him the letter.

"Please see this gets mailed first thing in the morning." He instructed. "Thank you Frederic."

"Sir." The man nodded and left with the letter in hand. Tris sank back into his seat, taking a long sip of his brandy.

* * *

As soon as the front door opened, Evie threw herself into Erik's already open arms.

"Thank God…" He whispered into her hair. "Thank God."

Pressing her face into the front of his partially unbuttoned shirt, she breathed in his smell. He kissed her and she realized how much she had missed his presence at home.

"As soon as we're settled back in, you and I are going upstairs." He growled, making her knees nearly give out. Bella had gone straight for Esme, lifting the girl up and holding her tightly.

"Did you miss me?" Esme asked. Bella nodded, kissing her pink cheek.

"I missed you the _most_!" Bella laughed, setting her down and moving to Evie, who had let go of Erik and let him go to Esme.

"You look beautiful." Evie murmured to Bella. Bella smiled.

"New clothes." She explained. "Aunt Bianca took me for some new things while I was there. English fashion and all that."

"It suits you." Evie replied, taking her daughter's left hand to look at her ring. Bella blushed as Claire and Julienne joined them to inspect the jewel.

"It isn't fair!" Julienne exclaimed. "You get a Marquis without even trying and I can't even get a plain old boy to love me!"

"Well, Simon is a bit of a dolt." Claire pointed out. Evie smiled secretively, shaking her head and meeting Erik's eyes. He nodded to the staircase. Discreetly, she let her daughters congregate while she took Erik's hand and followed him upstairs.

As soon as the door closed and the lock clicked behind them, Erik had Evie's dressed off and his own clothes discarded.

Evie grinned to herself in the aftermath of their reunion. Things were going to be fine.

* * *

Claire met Bella early for breakfast on the terrace before Julienne and Esme woke a few days later. Bella had been so busy…she'd had to inform Monsieur Belgrave that she could no longer be his children's governess, and she'd been to visit Madeleine, so Claire hadn't had a chance to talk much with her sister yet. Bella's eyes lit up when she saw her. Bella had the same contented look that she always wore, with her hair loosely plaited and laying over her shoulder.

"Morning." Claire said softly, sitting across from her and buttering a muffin.

"Good morning." Bella replied.

"Tell me everything." Claire said, biting into the muffin.

"It was so strange…like a surreal dream, Claire." Bella answered. "Literally, I went to his party when I arrived and as soon as he realized who I was, he proposed!"

"Just like that?" Claire asked, incredulously.

"He said he's loved me for four years!" Bella laughed. "I couldn't believe it. Charles was livid." Claire rolled her eyes.

"He's a beast." She said, shaking her head. Smiling, Bella took a sip of juice.

"He loves us." She defended her brother.

"Too much." Claire agreed.

"Bella?" Both girls turned to see their mother had joined them.

"I have barely seen you since Dad came home." Claire replied, eyeing her mother and sharing a small knowing grin with her sister. Bella stifled a giggle. Their mother reddened slightly, but gave Claire a look.

"Hush." She scolded lovingly. Handing Bella an envelope, she said, "This came for you, love." Bella gingerly took it and looked up at Claire.

"It's from Tris." She explained just above a whisper. Smiling to herself, she opened it and, as she began to read it, the smile gradually left her face, until she went pale. Looking up, her brown eyes were lost as she met Claire's eyes. "I…" She rose quickly, dropping the paper, "Excuse me." Quickly, she walked out into the gardens. Claire looked at her mother, who was still looking at the corner Bella had disappeared around. Leaning down, Claire picked up the discarded letter and began to read it.

_Bella, _

_This is very difficult for me to tell you, but I must break off our engagement. I acted irrationally in asking you to marry me. I have a responsibility to my family. We must not see each other again. _

_I'm sorry for your inconvenience. _

_Tristan, Marquis of Keating_

Handing the letter to her mother, Evie looked ashen.

"Oh dear."

Claire took off after her sister.

* * *

**So...I don't like this chapter much. But maybe I will edit it later. **


	16. Life Continues

Claire found Bella sitting under the very tree that she had fallen asleep under during that fateful storm when Claire had been so young. Her braid had all but fallen out and her hair was blowing in the warm summer wind. Silently, Claire sat beside her older sister and glanced at her face. Bella was staring straight ahead. She was not crying, in fact, she looked devoid of emotion. A pallor made her skin seem almost transparent.

"It's funny," Bella said softly, not turning to look at Claire. "I'm not even surprised." Claire saw her swallow and had to blink at the sudden tears of sorrow she felt for her sibling.

"Bella." She said, choking on her words. Finally, Bella looked at her and Claire could see the depth of her anguish in her brown eyes.

"I knew better than to believe I'm something that I am clearly not." She replied, frightening Claire in her defeat.

"You _are_ that person, Bella! Why can't you see?" Claire begged, pushing a lock of straight hair out of Bella's face.

"Stop it." Bella said calmly – too calmly – shaking her head. "I should have known better than to fall in love with Tristan Coolidge."

"You were in love with him?" Claire asked in a hushed voice, feeling her stomach sink. Bella shrugged, resigned.

"He made it so easy." She replied, meeting Claire's eyes. "I guess I just…" Bella breathed, "I just didn't realize how easy it was for Tris to lie. He never loved me." She shook her head. "I knew it all along, but I didn't realize how much it would hurt…" Her small voice cracked on the final word as she buried her face in her hands, finally allowing herself to cry. Claire put a supportive arm around her shaking shoulders. Bella sank down until she was lying on her back with her head in Claire's lap while Claire stroked her hair.

The sisters sat that way for quite a while before Claire helped Bella into the house, where her mother, father and Charles were congregated in a corner whispering fiercely to one another. Charles looked murderous. Their mother took one of Bella's hands while Dad took the other and together, they gently guided her out of the room no doubt to lie down. Charles shook his head, clenching his jaw.

"I'm going to kill him." He said to no one. Claire sighed.

"Charles," She said, "It's not worth it…he's in England…she's here. Just give her time. She will recover." Charles stared at Claire in disbelief.

"How can you say it's not worth it? He broke his promise to me to leave my sisters alone and he goes and does _this_, just when I was fine with it!"

Claire saw. Her brother was hurt that his best friend had lied. Tris had not only broken poor Bella's heart, but Charles's as well. You really couldn't trust anyone in this world. And if love led where Bella was now, well then, it really wasn't worth the try.

Was it?

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go right back to London and murder Tris." Charles said, more for his own benefit than anything. Claire shrugged helplessly.

"Because she loves him." Charles met her eyes, identical to his own and she noticed, with horror, that he looked like he might cry. Claire looked away. "I have to do something." She said, backing away from Charles.

"What are you doing?" He asked, following her. Irritated with his over protectiveness, she turned on him.

"Charles, Bella might find it endearing when you suffocate her, but please refrain from breathing down my neck." For a moment, he looked like he was considering killing her, but simply glared. "I can take care of myself." He sighed.

"Let me take you…I have to go home anyway." He said, catching up with her. "Where are you going?" She thought a moment before answering.

"To visit Emmy." She replied, noticing his eyes widen slightly.

"Really?"

"Yes." She lied. "You may accompany me if you wish, but I don't think—"

"I'll come." He said without hesitation. They arrived at the Chagny house before Claire even knew it because her mind was occupied with her sister's haunted eyes. She ached for Bella. Emmy, as it turned out, was not home as she was with her mother and Madame Giry at her Aunt's home. Gustave greeted them right away, still looking sheepish after their encounter at the Westcliff's home. Charles made small talk with Gustave for a moment, though he was oddly distracted. Thankfully, the Comte de Chagny offered Charles a drink, which he gladly accepted, following Gustave's father out of the sitting room. Claire found herself alone with Gustave.

"Claire, I want to apologize again for the other day—" Gustave began, cutting off. She stared vaguely at him for a moment. He must have seen something in her expression, because he looked worried. "Is everything all right with you?" He moved to sit beside her. Swallowing, she tried to meet his eyes.

"I don't think we should see each other much anymore, Gustave." She confessed. His blue eyes filled with concern.

"What happened?"

"It's Bella…she…" Claire shook her head, the words getting stuck in her throat. "Tris broke off their engagement." Gustave looked sympathetic.

"No…" He said quietly. "Oh, Bella...I'm so sorry, Claire."

"Yes, well…she needs me right now, and I don't think—"

"Claire, you're worried I'll do the same thing to you." He studied her, "Aren't you?" She looked down.

"Of course not. You have never showed any interest in marrying me. I'm not worried at all." Somehow, it sounded even more stupid to her.

"You are." Gustave mused, running a hand through his light hair. She'd never noticed how curly it was.

"You cut your hair." She mused, staring at him. Confused for a moment, he looked away.

"Yes, I did. It's warm outside and…it was time for a change."

"I like it." She said, falling right back into her old habit of being in love with him. To her surprise, he took her hands.

"Claire, I need you to know that I would never hurt you." His eyes were earnest. Pausing a moment, he added, "You were always a mystery. It's why I never approached you before."

"What are you talking about?" She demanded.

"You always seemed to hate me. I didn't try to talk to you because even then, even as a girl, you were quite an intimidating little thing…" He did not meet her eyes and Claire softened, seeing he was sincere.

"I didn't hate you." She admitted, feeling embarrassed. "I was so over the moon for you that I was trying too hard to seem uninterested."

"Once you came back and I met you again that night in the garden, I don't know what happened. I couldn't remember your name, and I felt so horrible, but so intrigued by you. And then when I saw you, I…" He trailed off, flushing.

"Yes?" She bit her lip in anticipation.

"I know you hate hearing this, Claire, but you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I'm sorry, but you are. But the thing is…you could be the plainest girl in France, and I would still fancy the hell out of you."

Despite herself, Claire smiled at him.

"That is possibly the nicest thing anyone ever said to me." She replied. "Gustave, I'm sorry." Taking a long breath, she blinked back a tear. "It's not that I don't trust you…I just…I don't ever want to look the way Bella did today." She let go of his hands. "I just need some time." He nodded, looking at her the way she'd always wished he would as a girl. "I'm not ready to give my heart away." His hand brushed over hers lightly.

"Then I will wait for you."

* * *

Emmy had never been more relieved to get home after a long day with Simon and his twin sisters Grace and Rose. The girls were thirteen and talked nonstop. Emmy loved them dearly, but they could suck the energy out of a person. Mum had gone off looking for Dad as soon as the door opened, and her brother was nowhere to be found.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs alerted her. Walking toward the stairs, she intended to ask Gustave why it was so quiet in the house when she realized the man on the stairs was not her brother. He was about half an inch taller than Gustave with hair black as ebony and silvery green eyes.

Charles.

He looked grim as he descended the stairs, but he must have heard her slight gasp of surprise because he noticed her standing there and smiled.

"Emmy…" He murmured. Shaking her head, still stinging from his abandonment, she backed away. "I know you're angry." Charles said cautiously.

"Angry?" She asked, backing straight into the wall with nowhere to go as he drew nearer. "You left the country without telling me!" Glaring at him, she crossed her arms in front of her.

"I know…I'm a dolt…an ass." He said apologetically. Bitterly, she looked away, trying to find an escape.

"It was stupid of me to ask you for help, Charles." She said, when he was straight in front of her. "You won't need to bother again." She wrangled herself away from him and stalked toward the foyer.

"But I _want_ to, Emmy!" He insisted, catching up with her. "I want you to succeed."

"I don't need to be in the opera to be happy, Charles." Emmy said with a scathing glance. "And I _don't _need your help!"

"Emmy, I—"

"_Leave_ me _alone_, Charles Destler!" She ordered and he stared at her, stunned.

"Emmy, your stammer…what – ?" He was staring at her in confusion. Irritated by his low standard for her, she turned away.

"I guess I just needed to be myself." She replied tartly. "Good day, Charles."

Emmy walked away from him, entering the foyer and seeing Claire standing there looking upset. Instantly, she was filled with chagrin as she went to her friend.

"What happened?" She asked, almost afraid to know the answer. Claire's eyes – Charles's eyes – were dark. She shook her head sadly.

"It's Bella." She replied as Charles entered the foyer as well. Claire met his eyes momentarily before taking Emmy's hands. "Tris broke it off with her."

"What?" Emmy cried, forgetting her anger with Charles for the moment and looking back at him. He stood silently beside them, looking more than slightly put out. "Why would he do that?"

"We can't figure it out either." Claire explained. "Although, Tris _is_ a rake…I suppose we should consider the fact that he just does not want to commit to one woman."

"He's a bloody idiot and he hadn't better show his face around here—" Charles began to rant, but Claire cleared her throat. Aggressively. "Well he hadn't." He said testily, checking his watch. "I'd better get you home before Mother has conniptions." Nodding, Claire gave Emmy a hug.

"Please give Bella my love. I will come to visit tomorrow." Emmy promised Claire. Her friend's eyes were grateful.

"I will." She let go of Emmy and brushed past Charles out the door. Charles lingered for a moment, watching Emmy with a strange expression. She stared uncomfortably back at him.

"What?" She asked irritably. An arrogant smirk played at his lips.

"I will see you tomorrow for our lessons." He said finally. Her lips fell open for a moment as if she were going to reply, but nothing came out so she closed her mouth. "Four o'clock." He added.

"I am no longer going to be taking lessons…I am not going to be in the opera." She insisted. He smiled at her high handedly.

"Oh, you will." He began to turn away. "And you'll be marvelous."

"I don't want to!" Emmy cried, angered. Shrugging nonchalantly, he met her eyes.

"I don't care." He said easily, coming back to her in two strides and towering over her. "You _will_ sing for me, Emmy." Touching her cheek with his fingertips, he drew away and left, closing the front door behind her. Shaken, she backed up to sit on the bottom stair, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. Thinking better of it, she ran back to the door and locked it, resting her forehead against the dark, cool wood.

* * *

Charles was still riled after he'd dropped Claire back home and had returned to his empty townhouse in Paris. The Emmy he'd left when he'd gone to London a month earlier was not the same woman he had encountered at the Comte's home today. The shy, stammering, docile creature Emmy had been weeks ago had been replaced by a self assured, regal, independent woman, who was more than a bit intimidating and so bloody attractive, he could barely stand it. What had transpired since he had last seen her, he didn't know, but he knew for certain now that he had to have her – mind, body and soul.

And voice.

She was going to sing for him like no woman had ever sung, not even her own mother. And she was going to be brilliant.

Once home, he began to tear through his library for old opera scores that he had collected and began scribbling furious notes down for his lessons. _La Boheme, Hannibal, La Traviata, Aida, Faust, Il Muto…_

Before Charles realized it, darkness had fallen on the house, forcing him to light a lamp. Sitting at his piano, he began to play the scores obsessively, one by one.

Architecture would have to wait.

* * *

Isabella Rose Destler was dreaming, she was sure. She was sitting underneath a willow on a warm, summer day near a lake. The sounds of her sisters playing nearby was soothing as the sounds of the water added a lullaby to it. Someone was sitting beside her, holding her hand and she was leaning with her head against his shoulder. Turning to look, she saw Tris and instantly was relieved that the letter had just been a nightmare. A terrible, joke. He stared lovingly down at her, and smiled. As he leaned forward to kiss her, she closed her eyes and to her shock, felt him let go of her hand. When she opened her eyes again, she was alone in her empty kitchen, staring at a tepid cup of tea. Her hands were mangled and aged, and as she looked up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window and nearly screamed. Her reflection now showed an old woman with white, thinning hair and a wrinkled face. Her sad brown eyes were nearly invisible under the sagging skin of her papery thin eyelids. Tears burned her eyes as she found a scream.

Bella sat straight up in her bed, clutching her bed covers and trying to breathe. Holding out her hands, she inhaled as she saw her young, still supple skin was smooth and normal. Looking over to the mirror, she saw she was still herself. Quietly, she began to cry into her hands, letting her shoulders shake with sobs.

Terrible fear consumed her as she remembered her vivid nightmare. She knew that she would end up old and alone and the thought was almost as terrifying as the dream had been. It had been two days since she had received Tris's letter, and she had been nearly an invalid for those two days. A fierce determination to take control of her own fate filled her as she pushed aside her feelings for Tris and the heartache she had felt.

No more. Isabella Rose Destler was _not_ going to grow old alone. Not in a million years. Quickly, she brushed the snarls out of her long, mahogany hair and pinned it up neatly at the base of her neck. Throwing open her closet, she pulled out her prettiest yellow day gown and slippers. Even better, she added a pair of silk stockings under her bloomers before reviewing her reflection. She still wasn't beautiful, but at least she was attractive. With an approving nod at herself, she opened her bedroom door and started down the stairs, hearing the hushed voices of her family. They were gathered in the parlor already, eating breakfast together. A rush of affection for her parents and sisters flooded her as she realized they had all been trying to let her rest. Her father looked up from his food and saw her in the doorway to the parlor.

"Bella!" He said, rising. She smiled at him and walked over to kiss his cheek.

"Morning, Dad." She said sunnily. Her mother watched her cautiously, as Bella approached her next, leaning down to kiss her cheek too. "Mother."

"You look well," Evie said, glancing at her husband.

"I feel well." Bella said, ignoring the dull ache in her chest. "And I'm done moping about." Seeing that Esme was trying to butter her muffin, Bella gently took it from the ten year old and buttered it for her. "Dad, I was thinking, I should go visit Claude and Jane this afternoon. Could you take me on your way to work?" Erik nodded, sipping his tea.

"Of course, love." He said. Claire entered the room, looking pleasantly surprised at the sight of her older sister up and about.

"Good morning." She said. Bella hated the pitying look in everyone's eyes. Julienne followed close behind her, stopping at the door.

"Bella!" Jules exclaimed. "You're up!"

"Yes," Bella smiled fondly at her lovely younger sisters. "I am going to visit Claude and Jane today."

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Bella, dear." Her mother replied, smoothing Esme's hair. "I'm sure they miss you terribly."

"Well, I miss them too." Bella agreed, taking a blueberry muffin for herself. Checking the time, Erik sighed.

"We'd better go, Bella. I have to meet at the Populaire this morning regarding auditions." He said, leaning over to kiss his wife. Bella stood, ready. She smiled at her mother and sisters.

"I shall see you all tonight." She said, following her father out of the room. Erik watched her closely on the ride to the Belgrave home, no doubt speculating about the visit and her mental state. If he had doubts, however, he said nothing to her of them. Kissing her cheek, he smiled at her as the carriage stopped.

"I'll pick you up at two o'clock." He said, opening the door and getting down to help her out of the car. She let him set her lightly on her feet and hugged him.

"I love you, Dad." She murmured into his chest. Bella felt his arms come around her tightly.

"I love you too, Isabella." He watched after her until the door to the Belgrave house was answered and she was let in before he drove away.

She was led into the parlor by the housekeeper to wait for the children to be released from their lessons. Sitting on the sofa, Bella tried to strike her prettiest pose, but was unsure of how to look attractive without seeming like she was _trying_ to look becoming. The sound of children's excited voices and footsteps came from overhead as they thundered down the stairs. She stood, unable to contain herself, and beamed from ear to ear as they threw themselves into her arms, nearly knocking her over. Giddy laughter left her, as she kissed the tops of their heads.

"Bella! Bella!" Jane cried happily. "Thank Goodness you've come back," Her voice dropped. "Nurse Agnes is so very cruel and harsh." Bella's eyes followed to the doorway, where an ancient, angular featured woman stood with her lips so tightly pursed, they were turning white. She stood ramrod straight and seemed to look on Bella with an air of disgust. Swallowing, Bella gently walked past the children to the woman.

"Nurse Agnes, I presume?" She asked as bravely as she could manage. The woman was terrifying, but nodded curtly.

"Mademoiselle Destler." She stated.

"How are they coming with their learning?" She asked, as Claude joined her side, hugging her around the waist. For a moment, she felt very protective of him, putting an arm around his shoulder.

"They are impossible, ignorant, spoiled children." Agnes said gruffly. "They don't pay attention, and they insist that learning should be _fun._" The woman scoffed. "If it was fun, it wouldn't be learning."

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Bella asked kindly, as Claude held her tighter. "I will see to it that they study."

"Mademoiselle Destler," The woman replied condescendingly. "You abandoned your post here. I was brought in to fill it. You have no place here."

"We don't like _you_, we like _Bella!_" Claude shouted at the woman indignantly. "You're mean and hateful and we hate you!"

"Claude," Bella chided lovingly, "You must be respectful of your governess." A new pang of hurt began to throb within her chest as she knelt beside the boy and smoothed his hair. "Now apologize to Nurse Agnes."

"S-sorry…" Claude said grudgingly, wiping his eyes. Jane remained quiet near Bella's other side.

"I am in charge here now, Mademoiselle Destler," Agnes snapped. "I will give the orders."

"Nurse Agnes," A new voice had entered the room. Bella looked past the woman to see Monsieur Belgrave standing there in his business clothes. "That is unnecessary…Bella is a welcome guest in our home." Sighing in relief, Bella felt Claude relax before he let go of her and ran to his father. "You may have the remainder of the day off." He added, winking at Bella, who smiled. Agnes glared once more at Bella before stalking off. Monsieur Belgrave set Claude to his feet and came to Bella, smiling kindly.

"How are you, my dear?" He asked. "I had heard of your engagement." Looking down in embarrassment, she shook her head.

"No, sir. It didn't work out. I am not engaged." His gray eyes filled with concern at her reply.

"What do you mean, it didn't work out?" He inquired, offering her his arm, which she took. They all began to walk toward the back terrace.

"He broke it off." She explained quietly. He nodded, understanding.

"I'm sorry." He said, "I truly hoped things would work out for you."

"Thank you," Bella said, smiling sadly at him.

"Children," He said, kissing Jane on the top of her head. "Go play…it's nice outside."

"Will you be home for the rest of the day, Papa?" Jane asked, wide eyed. He nodded, smiling at his daughter.

"Yes, love." As the children ran to play on their swings, he sighed. "They've become very attached to me since my wife passed." Looking at her he added, "Especially since you had left."

"I am sorry about that, Monsieur Belgrave, and I—"

"Don't apologize, Bella." Monsieur Belgrave said, gesturing for her to sit down and telling a nearby maid to fetch some lemonade. "And please, you are no longer my governess. Call me Gaston."

"Gaston, I must confess," She began, taking a deep breath, "when I came here today to visit with Jane and Claude, I was hoping that you would be home." A look of vague surprise came into his eyes and his eyebrows rose.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Bella forced herself to continue, though she was shaking with nerves. "I was wondering, Gaston, if your offer still stood?"

"My offer?" He looked mildly confused.

"Your offer of marriage." She swallowed, relieved to have got it all out. "Unless, of course, there is someone else." When he did not answer right away, she turned red. "Oh dear. I am sorry…there is someone else." Rising, she began to turn away, "How presumptuous of me to think—"

"Bella," He interrupted, rising and putting his hands on her shoulders. "There is no one else. You just shocked me is all." She did not get the uneasy feeling she had gotten before with him, and in fact, saw in his eyes that he was not malicious at all. He had simply been a grieving man with two children to care for.

"Oh." She managed, feeling stupid. He smiled down at her.

"And for the record, my offer does still stand." Gaston added. Meeting his eyes, she was able to smile, ignoring her heart screaming at her for betraying her love for Tris. _Tris does not love me. _A flash of what she would become if she did not marry, scared her again as she nodded.

"Gaston, I accept your proposal." She replied, taking his hands. "I will marry you."

* * *

**I'm so sorry it's been so long between updates. I am writing like fifty stories at once!!! lol My head is so full of ideas, I can't get them all out fast enough! More soon though. **

**Sydnee  
**


	17. What Comes of Love

Emmy stared at the Destler's door for five minutes before knocking, wondering with trepidation, if Charles was here. Claire answered the door, her black hair down and unpinned, which was unusual. Claire never wore her hair down. It made her look fourteen again.

"Afternoon Emmy." She said, smiling nervously. Emmy noticed, that Claire's eyes were heavy lidded and tired looking.

"Everything well here?" Emmy asked, stepping inside and linking her arm with Claire's. A sigh left Claire.

"Everything's gone loopy around here." She explained, exhausted, guiding Emmy toward the back of the house to the gardens. The Destler family had their luncheon spread elaborately on the terrace and chaos was rampant. Every last Destler was present, Charles included, Emmy noted with a rush of anxiety. He looked up at her, but if he had any agenda, there was no sign of it in his light eyes. Two children she did not recognize chased after the Destler's little cousins, giggling.

Bella sat beside a handsome, dark haired man that she recognized vaguely. Emmy had seen him at various balls and events since coming out into society. Bella, contrary to what Emmy had expected, was smiling and watching the children play with a look of adoration. Her hand was clasped in the man's hand and he was smiling at her. On her finger was a handsome engagement ring. Looking at Claire in surprise, Claire nodded.

"Bella's accepted Monsieur Belgrave's proposal of marriage."

"But she only just was left by Tris." Emmy whispered, horrified. "Is she sure that's what she wants?"

"Everyone is so afraid to upset her, because of her distress from the other day, that no one knows what to say. Charles is disgusted…Dad is horrified and Mother is so determined to keep the peace, she's doing everything short of pulling her own hair out." Claire sighed, sinking into a seat. "Not to mention, it's Giselle and Nora's birthday today, and of course Maman decided we would be throwing them a birthday party."

"How old are they?" Emmy asked, looking for the Holden twins. They were standing with their mother and father, who looked proud as could be as they spoke with another of Claire's aunts and uncles.

"Thirteen." Claire rolled her eyes. "Mother decided at practically midnight to throw it all together, so I've been up for a whole day now." She yawned, and rested her head against the back of her seat. Charles was watching Bella and her new fiancé intently, a muscle in his jaw ticking, his shoulders hunched with wrought tension. Emmy felt sorry for him, letting her anger with him subside just for a second, as she wished she could rub the tension out of his shoulders. Her face heated with the thought, especially when he glanced at her.

She swallowed as he stood, coming to her and kissing her hand, observing all propriety.

"Mademoiselle de Chagny." He said politely. Emmy stared at him suspiciously.

"Monsieur Destler." She said, gritting her teeth.

"Shall I arrange for you to stay for supper at my house tonight as well, since you'll be there for lessons anyway?" He asked cockily. A sound similar to a growl left her.

"_No._" She hissed. "You shall _not._ I will not be accompanying you to your home tonight, Monsieur." Irate, she made to move away again, when he gently took her arm. "Let go of me." She warned.

"I am barely holding you in place." He pointed out, nodding at his hand. Indeed, he barely had hold of her arm, gently held between his thumb and index finger. Snatching her limb back, she glared at him, eyes blazing.

"I am not coming." She repeated, sounding less sure this time. He nodded resolutely.

"You'll come." Grinning, he kissed her hand again and walked off, leaving her to stew in her own confusion.

* * *

Bella watched Jane and Claude play contentedly with her cousins and sighed. She should have been happy to see her future children get on so well with her cousins and parents, but something was missing. Smiling on the outside, she felt like an empty shell still when she should have been relieved. Gaston had been nothing but sweet to her since her acceptance the day before, and she could see that they would be very content together.

But it wasn't enough.

She felt no passion for Gaston, which worried her, and it seemed to her that he was not particularly wild about her. He liked her - that she was sure of, but he wasn't mad for her like Tris had been. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blocked the vision of Tris's handsome face from her mind, pushing her pain to the back. The day hadn't been so terrible the day before, but at night…it was difficult. Tears came at night. Sleep came at night and with sleep came dreams…or nightmares.

Last night's had been particularly terrible. She had dreamed that Tris had come to Paris with a new wife. A blonde, flawless creature, who was tall and slender and knew exactly what to say. Someone who didn't trip over her own feet.

"Bella? Why are you sad, love?" Gaston asked gently, holding her hand. Smiling at him assuringly, she shook her head.

"I'm not…I'm just tired is all." She lied. Worry filled his slate colored eyes.

"It's been a hard go for you lately, hasn't it?" He asked. Panic filled her as she shook her head again.

"I'm fine." Bella insisted, patting his hand. "Really."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to go inside and lie—" He stopped, noticing someone walk onto the terrace. Bella looked over to see her cousin, Amelia standing there and looking wistfully at the children. Gaston was watching her with a curious expression on his face.

"Who is that girl?" He asked.

"My cousin, Amelia. Her husband died four years ago and she suffered a miscarriage." Bella watched Amelia sadly. "She's never gotten over it."

"She looks so sad." He mused. Bella nodded, seeing an expression in his eyes that she had never seen before. Pain.

"How have you been?" Bella asked, worrying for him. Gaston shrugged.

"It's different for me, I'm sure. Marietta was so aloof and although she did all of the things she was supposed to, I could see that she never took a real interest in her own children. After Claude's birth, she became even sicker, more fragile…she didn't even try to get better."

Bella bit her lip at his revelation, making a mental vow to try and be a better wife than Marietta had been to him. She realized the uneasiness she had felt with him before was unfounded. Bella could see in his eyes that he was not a malicious being. He was only a sad, lonely person desperate to find true love like the rest of the world.

Amelia's mother walked up to her and put a supportive hand on the small of her back. Smiling, Amelia kissed Aunt Bethany's cheek as she turned and walked past Bella and Gaston. Turning once more, she smiled at Claude and Jane, who were arguing over a toy. With a sigh, Gaston rose to break up the argument, but Amelia gently stepped in and crouched, so that she was on eye level with the two little imps. Bella followed, to see if she could help, but watched in fascination as she convinced Claude to relinquish his sister's treasured doll back into her possession. In all her time as their governess, Bella had never been able to persuade little Claude that easily without a fight.

"Thank you." Gaston said sheepishly, watching as the children returned to their blissful playing. "He's a handful." Amelia's eyes lingered on Claude.

"He's precious." She murmured. "Both of them are." Gaston held out his hand.

"Gaston Belgrave." He said, turning to put his arm around Bella, who smiled warmly at her cousin. "Bella's fiancé."

"Oh!" Amelia said, remembering. "Of course." She winked at Bella. "Amelia Haverston…formerly Delaflote. I'm Bella's cousin."

"Amy!" Julienne cried, coming closer. "Madeleine is getting ready to leave, and she wanted you to have your chance holding Olivia before she did." Julienne gave Gaston a small smile. Amelia nodded and looked back at Bella and Gaston.

"Well…" She said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Gaston." Beaming at Bella, she said, "You must come visit soon. It's so lonely in that house all by myself. And do bring the children!" Bella nodded enthusiastically.

"I will. Thank you Amy." She linked arms with Julienne and walked away, but Gaston's curious expression had changed again. He looked down at her.

"I can't imagine losing my spouse and then my child…" He shook his head. "I don't know what I would have done if Jane or Claude had been sick—"

"Don't even think it." Bella said quickly, looking at the children. She frowned when she noticed that Esme was missing. "Oh dear." She sighed. "Gaston, I need to find my little sister, would you excuse me a moment?"

"Of course." He said, kissing her hand and walking toward the house. Bella took off in the direction of Esme's favorite hiding spot. It was a part of the garden where the vines grew to create a closed in area. Esme had told only Bella about it, because she was her favorite sister. She stopped, crouching around the hedge as she heard Esme's small voice talking to someone.

"They won't let me play with them because they're _teenagers_ now." She was saying.

"I see." Bella smiled to herself as she recognized Roger's calm, soothing voice. She could almost picture her dear friend sitting cross legged in the tiny haven created by the leaves. It was nearly comical, and yet, a rush of gratitude ran through her for being so kind to Esme.

"I don't know what to do, Roger." Esme sniffed. "I'm _not_ a baby, you know!" Bella could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, "I know, Es."

"What should I do?" Esme asked, and Bella's heart broke for the ten year old. Roger made a sound of contemplation.

"Well," He said softly, "I am going to tell you the truth, Esme Marie. You are just going to have to be patient and wait for them to accept that you are wonderful. And they will," He promised, "Because one day, you are going to be so lovely and so charming, that Giselle and Nora won't be able to help wanting to be around you. No one will."

"Really?" Esme asked, sounding slightly happier.

"Of course." He said, "I know these things."

"How do you know?" She asked in a whisper.

"I just do." He replied.

"Roger?" She asked after another moment.

"Mmm?"

"D'you think anybody will ever love me like Daddy loves Maman?" Esme asked, piercing Bella's broken heart. Tears came to her eyes at the thought that even a ten year old wanted true love.

"Oh, I know so..." Roger replied smoothly.

"But…what if they don't? What if a man tells me he loves me and then hurts me like Tris hurt Bella?" Esme inquired innocently. Bella's heart constricted as if it was being squeezed by icy hands.

"That won't happen, sweetheart." Roger soothed.

"How can you be sure?" Esme asked fearfully.

"I just am." He said. "Now no more of these thoughts, Esme Marie. Let's go inside and retrieve some sweets before they're all gone!" She giggled and they walked past Bella without seeing her crouched down. Bella sank to sit against the hedge and bit her lip. Drawing her knees up into her chest, she began to cry again.

* * *

Emmy was furious with herself. She refused to be ordered around, and yet, here she stood, waiting for Charles to open the door to his townhouse. Only, she reminded herself, to tell Charles off again. He answered almost as soon as she knocked, crossing his arm in satisfaction. Letting out a sigh of frustration, she pointed an accusing finger at him.

"Who do you think you are, Charles Destler, ordering people around like they were made to serve you?"

He did not seem to notice she was mad at him, however, because he pulled her into the house and shut the front door.

"I've set aside some music for us to work on," He said, walking past her into his library and sitting down at the piano. He thrust a stack of papers toward her.

"_La Traviata _first, yes?" He said. Playing some scales, he looked at her expectantly. "You are supposed to be vocalizing." Charles said, patronizing her. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"No. I am not singing for you." She replied, crossing her arms. He raised a dark eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I only came here to tell you what a big…b-badger you are, Ch-Charles…" She replied, sinking back into a nervous stammer as he rose from the piano in a fluid-like motion. Advancing on her like she was his prey, she turned to look for an escape. Unfortunately, she was against the wrong wall and would somehow have to run past him to the door across the room.

"Don't even think of it." Charles said darkly, reading her mind. "You're going to stay here. And you are going to sing for me…" His eyes bore into her. "Right?"

"N-no." She argued weakly, smelling the intoxicating scent of his cologne. His dark curls were wild and attractively unkempt. He was much taller than she, and her head only came to his shoulder, causing his shadow to loom over her. Swallowing, she turned her head as his hands trapped her against the wall. One on either side of her head. His eyes widened as he heard her breath become uneven.

"You must forgive me, Emmy, for leaving so suddenly." He said in a low voice. She shook her head.

"Why? So you can abandon me again?" She challenged, blinking back tears. He softened, understanding that she had been stung by his leaving without a goodbye.

"So that's it." Charles replied, knowingly. "I am sorry I hurt your feelings."

"I'm fine." Emmy ground out, hating that she was stuck under his gaze.

"No you're not." He said pointedly. "But singing isn't going to help you right now."

"What are you talking about?" She demanded, trying to pry herself out of his grip. When she moved her head away from the wall, one of his hands came to rest at the nape of her neck. Her heart began to beat irregularly in her chest, and she was sure he could hear it.

"We will have our lesson, but first," He moved closer still, so that their bodies were touching. His other hand moved down to her waist, and Emmy realized with a start, that she was about to experience her first kiss. "I am going to do something else. Something I should have done long ago."

"I don't want you to…" Emmy mumbled weakly, staring into his silvery eyes. In the light, his eyes were such a light green, that they were almost yellow.

"I don't care, right now, Emmeline." He said seductively, sending a shiver down her spine. She hadn't even blinked when his velvety lips crushed onto hers. Urging her back against the wall, his hand massaged the back of her neck as she strained up into his arms on her toes, grasping to feel more of him. Her hands slithered up into his thick, black hair and lightly tugged on it, holding him closer to her.

At the silken touch of his tongue, her eyes flew open and his did too. She felt him smile into their kiss, as he deepened it, cradling her head in his hands. Her own hands moved down to clutch the lapels of his coat. A small sound purred out of her throat as his knee came to rest between her legs, causing a delicious friction there. At her small mewl of pleasure, he ripped his lips away from hers and buried his face in her neck, kissing the sensitive hollow of her throat and just below her ear. One of his hands wandered lazily over her breast and she cried out.

And suddenly, he had let go of her and was staring at her with an expression of something close to alarm.

"Good _Lord…_" He rasped, his eyes wild. Looking down at her feet, she shifted awkwardly, trying to forget the tingling between her thighs.

"I'm sorry." She said lamely, unsure what to say.

"No." He said, taking her by the shoulders. "You can't be sorry, because if you're sorry, then this was wrong…and it can't be wrong, it _can't_." Staring at her intently, he was serious. "Was it wrong?"

"No." She said hesitantly, trying to breathe. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips again, sweetly this time and drew her head against his chest. She could heard the deep thud of his heart as he cradled her there, running soothing hands down her back, through her curling brown hair.

"You're beautiful, Emmy." He whispered. "I'm so sorry…so sorry for leaving…I didn't – I don't – I'm an idiot."

"I forgive you." She said breathlessly and felt his lips brush her forehead. Daring herself to look up, she managed a smile and touched his cheek. He grabbed her hand and held it there, closing his eyes.

"Charles? I—" She began and stopped, as he opened his eyes.

"What is it?" He asked softly. "What do you need? I'll get you anything…I'll do anything, just tell me what you want."

"I want to sing for you."

* * *

Tristan Edward Coolidge, Marquess of Keating was on edge. After his third glass of whiskey, he still was not calm. It had been nearly two weeks since Bella's departure and he was in constant panic. He'd written to her, nearly the minute he'd got home after saying goodbye to her.

She'd never responded.

He waited every day for her letter to come, but it never did. The servants were beginning to think him mad as he ripped through the mail every day, waiting for news of his bride.

Nothing.

His mother had been keeping her distance as of late, and though they had to interact on occasion, in all honesty, they avoided each other. She would disappear early in the evenings and not emerge until the following morning. It was rather suspicious, but Tris didn't care.

He had withdrawn from society and rumors were going rampant that he was ill, that he was sick in the head, that he had eloped with Bella. He hadn't left the house in days. His hair was wild and unkempt and he had a week's worth of stubble on his face. It was difficult for him to eat, sleep or do anything. When he did sleep, it was fretful tossing and turning, usually with him waking from a nightmare.

"Sir," The butler Frederic said, appearing in the parlor where he sat with his bottle of liquor. "The mail just arrived."

Tris turned weary green eyes on the man and held out his hand limply. The butler put a stack of letters in his hand and stepped back.

"Sir, perhaps I shall send for some tea? Or coffee, perhaps?"

Tris shook his head, waving him out. Frederic bowed and left the room with haste as Tris flipped through the mail.

Invitation to Reddon's soiree. Invoice. Invitation to a musicale. Invoice. _Destler._

Tris stared in disbelief at the Destler seal in his hands. It was addressed in Bella's small, elegant handwriting. There was something enclosed inside as well. Tears of relief stung his eyes as he practically ripped the entire thing apart trying to get it open. With trembling hands, he removed the letter and began to read.

_Tris, _

_I'm sorry things didn't work out with us. I have decided to accept Gaston Belgrave's proposal of marriage. I could not, in good conscience, keep this ring. _

_I wish you the best of luck in all things. _

_Sincerely, _

_Isabella Rose Destler._

Taking the envelope, Tris removed the ring he had given Bella with shaking fingers and nearly dropped it. His heart felt like it had been stabbed. Reading the letter over, he made sure he had read it right.

_I have decided to accept Gaston Belgrave's proposal of marriage…_

His blood thudded in his ears as he read the words over and over again.

It was over. Bella would never be his…His mother had won…and she hadn't even had to do anything. Bella was in love with another.

It was over. Choking back a sob, he crumpled the evil parchment and pelted it angrily at the wall with a scream. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that a flash of green had entered the room.

"What the devil is going on here?" His mother demanded, eyeing him as if he were the most vile thing she had ever encountered. "Look at you," She spat. "Filthy, unshaved, and a sobbing mess. Tristan, you are a disgrace to your father's title."

"Fuck you!" He thundered, standing up and stalking toward her. "I hate you, Mother." He said, wretching. "You are an evil, disgusting snake of a woman." Her emerald eyes gleamed with ire as she stared at him, unfailingly. Her eyes drifted to the crumpled paper at her feet. Quickly she picked it up and read it. An arrogant sneer came to her face.

"I knew that French girl was trouble, Tristan." She said, tossing the letter into the fire. "This is for the best."

Tris sank into a chair and clutched the bottle of whiskey by the neck, drinking straight from it.

"You'll see," His mother went on, satisfied. "I will find you a true wife…one worthy of being a Marchioness as accomplished as I." Weakly, Tris slumped with his head against the back of the chair, too tired to fight anymore.

"I don' wanna be alone…" Tris slurred drunkenly. His mother nodded impassionately.

"Of course, Tristan. Leave everything to me." She said, as he finished off the whiskey. "And you will follow my instructions from here on out."

"Yes, Mother." He muttered weakly, as the empty bottle fell from his limp hand.

* * *

**So, things are getting messy, aren't they? Conflicts are flying about everywhere now, and there seems to be no stop! How will it end? **

**Twists ahead. **

**Syd  
**


	18. A Crumpled Piece of Paper

It was a hot, humid, day in Paris. There was a hazy, steamy layer of clouds that seemed to hang over everything, and there was no relief anywhere. Even in the shade. Claire sat in the parlor with her sisters and parents, wishing desperately that she could just lounge in her under things. Her silk stockings seemed to stick to her legs. Bella was draped over the side of the sofa, with her long, cocoa colored hair hanging down and one leg dangling off the furniture. Esme was lying on the cool floor beside her, with her arms and legs sprawled out. Julienne was pacing furiously, fanning herself with a book. Even their parents were keeping their distance from each other because it was simply too hot to be close together. Dad was in a black mood, unable to even wear his mask. His black hair, usually so well put together was wild.

"Maman…please!" Esme whined from the floor. "I am so hot, I can't bear it. I am going to die of heat!"

Evie laughed, sharing a look with their father.

"I seriously doubt that you will die, my love." She replied gently, trying not to laugh. Claire lifted her head from where she was lying on the floor as well.

"I've never been so sweaty in all my life." Claire moaned and Bella made some noise of agreement.

"I can't meet Gaston today like this!" She said quietly, sounding entirely too happy about that. "Oh well…I suppose we shall just have to see each other another day."

"Bella," Claire said purposefully, "You have found one excuse or another to avoid your fiancé for the past _three_ days."

"I have not." Bella replied weakly, parting her hair to look up at her sister. "We've just been busy."

"Busy?" Julienne said with a small laugh, "You've been lying on the terrace, looking out at the garden. And every so often, you sigh."

"I do not _sigh_." Bella tried to argue. "I just like to breathe deeply sometimes."

"You do sigh." Esme said innocently. "And sometimes you look so sad…"

"Esme, enough." Dad warned, seeing that Bella was becoming distressed again. Bella sat up, her usually silky hair a fine mess of tangles.

"It's all right, Dad." She assured him with a phony smile. Claire shared a knowing look with Jules. As Bella began to get up, her ankle inevitably rolled and she nearly toppled over Esme, but Dad was so quick that he caught her easily and set her to rights. "I think I will meet with Gaston after all." Throwing Claire an expectant look, Claire decided it better not to say anything else.

When Bella had gone off to dress for her lunch with Monsieur Belgrave, Evie sighed.

"Girls, I wish you would not push her so. You know how hard this has been for her, the poor darling."

"Evie, my pet," Dad said, sitting back down and crossing his legs. "You have to stop being so protective over our Bella." He glanced at his three daughters. "We _all_ do…she is stronger than you give her credit for."

"I know, Dad," Claire agreed, "It's just, we all know that Bella doesn't have the same self esteem that we all have." She explained. "Not that she _shouldn't, _but for some reason, it's like she doesn't think she's as good as anyone else."

"That's ridiculous!" Dad scoffed. "Bella was the most beautiful child I have ever seen," He turned to their mother, "Wasn't she the most beautiful child you ever saw?"

"Mmm." Mother agreed, nodding. "She had those big, beautiful eyes and the sweetest little singing voice you ever heard."

"She thinks she's plain." Julienne said, with a roll of her eyes.

"_Plain?_" Erik nearly choked at the word.

"She would never _say_ so," Claire added sadly, "But I think she does have it in her head that she is plain."

"It's very easy to think so sometimes when you have four other sisters who are all lovely and talented." Evie pointed out. "Trust me, I know. I felt the same."

"How could you _ever_ think you were not as pretty as your sisters?" Erik asked, horrified. Evie smiled sadly, gathering Esme off the floor and smoothing her wild, coppery curls.

"I was not outgoing, Erik," She explained, "I sat inside and read novels…and eventually wrote them. I wore reading spectacles."

"I love those spectacles." Dad pouted. Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"No one ever courted me until Ansel did." Evie said, and their father's eyes became dark. A sound similar to a growl left him.

"_Uncle_ Ansel?" Julienne asked incredulously.

"Oh yes," Mother replied easily, "We were engaged."

"_What?_" All three girls cried in unison.

"He was in love with Aunt Bianca though." Mother gently added. "So I broke it off and ended up with your father." She winked at Dad, who did not look amused. "Because I was already in love with him."

"Hmmpf." Erik said, unappeased. Bella reappeared in the doorway, and Claire had to smile because, though she was wearing a very lovely shade of lavender, the poor girl looked so hot, she could hardly stand it. Her cheeks were as pink as ever, and small tendrils of hair were coming loose from the coiffure already. Throwing her parasol aside and ripping off her gloves, she scowled.

"Dash it all, I am _not _going." She said, sinking moodily into a chair and wrenching the hat from her head. "Gaston would take one look and run."

"I don't think you should," Their father agreed, "If you are going to faint, I'd rather you do so in my presence and not your…fiancé's." Claire noted the grudging way their father said "fiancé." She knew he was not happy with the marriage of Bella and Belgrave. Like Claire, he believed that it was still too soon to replace his first wife and that it was too convenient. Bella would never be happy with him.

"Jean will see to it that he is told." Evie assured her daughter. Bella nodded, lying back. Claire watched her sister sadly, seeing the heartbreak still there…everywhere in her. Her eyes were no longer full of life and she hardly ever smiled now. Bella had become far too thin and was nearly to the point where she was sharing dresses with Julienne.

It was a feat to even persuade Bella to eat a full meal, or go shopping. Even their infant niece, Olivia, didn't bring her the joy that she once would have found at being an aunt. If only there was something that could be done…if only Tris hadn't broken her heart—

Claire stopped, looking at Bella, whose arm was over her eyes. Tris, though he had been a rake, had never been black hearted. He would never have asked Bella to marry him unless he had been truly serious about it. There had to have been a third party involved…his mother. The Marchioness was not a kind woman, and she certainly wasn't forgiving. But Bella would never deduce that someone had sabotaged her engagement because she truly didn't think she was good enough to love!

"Damn!" Claire heard herself exclaim. Dad looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Composing herself, she rose off of the floor and ran her hand through her unpinned, black hair. "I forgot I was supposed to meet Emmy!"

"Just let her know you can't come!" Julienne said casually, still fanning herself. Claire shook her head.

"No…I have to go…" She took one last look at her father's narrowed eyes and then Bella, who had either not heard her or made no indication of caring. Turning, she ran from the room to find Jean.

"Jean!" She whispered loudly. The butler, seeing her, looked alarmed.

"What's wrong, Mademoiselle?" He asked worriedly. She looked around, straightening her day dress.

"I need to go to my brother's house." She explained feverishly, hoping her family wasn't listening.

"Of course." He said, bowing slightly and leaving the hall to go arrange her carriage. Reviewing her reflection, there was no time to pin her hair. It would just have to hang down her back. Thinking better of it on such a hot day, Claire ran into her bedroom and snatched a ribbon out of her vanity drawer and tied her hair back.

"The carriage is waiting, Mademoiselle." Jean said when she returned. Smiling at him, she nodded and walked out the door into the carriage. She fidgeted the entire way to Charles's house, trying to figure out what to say to him.

The ride to her brother's was terribly long, it seemed, and her foot impatiently tapped the floor as she looked out the window. She flew out of the car before the footman could even open the door and thanked him hurriedly over her shoulder as she feverishly pressed the bell. The door opened and Charles stood with his shirt partly opened and a stupid grin on his face.

"I've been waiting for you, I have—" He stopped, realizing it was Claire and paled. "Shit."

Staring at her brother in disgust, she shoved past him into the house, which was delightfully cool.

"Charles, I have to talk to you." She said urgently. He ran a hand through his hair, looking over his shoulder out the open door. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Actually, _yes._" He said in irritation. "So if you wouldn't mind, I think you should go."

"No." She replied. "This is too important. I think someone sabotaged Tris and Bella's engagement." Charles grunted and rolled his eyes.

"Yes. _Tris_ did that." He said condescendingly. "And if he knows what's good for him, he'll never set foot in Paris again." Claire glared at him.

"You are such an idiot sometimes, Charles." She said, giving up.

"Claire, you're so innocent, you don't know—"

"I'm _not _stupid, Charles." She shot at him angrily. "Our sister's happiness is at stake here and you could care less because you're waiting for some dumb floozy to show up here!" She spun on her heel and stormed out of his house.

* * *

Emmy was trying not to think about the heat. She was willing herself not to sweat before she arrived at Charles's house for their lesson that afternoon. She had her hair tied back at the crown of her head with a ribbon, keeping the curls off of her neck. Even though she was wearing the lightest, short sleeved day dress she could find, it was not helping.

Reaching Charles's yard, Emmy stopped dead, seeing Claire stalking out of the house. Stealthily, Emmy ducked behind a nearby tree so that she wouldn't see her. Though she was not ashamed of taking lessons, the fact that her relationship with Charles had taken a remarkably scandalous turn made her blush even thinking of it.

Once Claire had disappeared from sight, Emmy emerged and walked cautiously up the steps to Charles's house. The door was open and he was standing in the foyer looking slightly angry and more than slightly bemused. When he heard her footsteps, he looked up and his light eyes lit up.

"Em." He said, relieved. "Claire was just here."

"I know," She said, nodding. "I saw her leave. Did you two fight?"

"No." He said quietly. "She yelled, I listened. She was blabbing about some nonsense with Tris and Bella being sabotaged."

"Did you believe her?" Emmy asked, wondering what Claire could have meant.

"I believe that Tris is who he is…and he broke my sister's heart and he is going to have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his miserable life."

Gently, Emmy shut the front door and clicked the lock shut. Shyly, she approached Charles and put a soft hand on his arm. He turned his head to look down at her and brought his fingers up to caress her cheek.

"Emmy…"

"I just want to thank you for helping me, Charles." She said, putting her hand over his on her cheek.

"Come on," He said, taking her hand. "Let's get started."

"Let's do the aria from _Il Muto. _The one where the Countess is playing with her jewelry." Emmy said, opening the music. Charles looked at her in surprise.

"You want to do that one?" He asked. She shrugged shyly.

"I was sort of thinking about using it for the audition." She replied. He grinned at her.

"Dad will never believe it if you do this." Charles said with a laugh. "I think it's a wonderful idea."

"My parents will never believe it." Emmy said, wondering how her parents _would _react to her auditioning for an opera.

"Come on, Emmeline, sing the scales." Charles said, taking his seat at the piano. "I won't have you ruining your voice."

Emmy followed his lead and sang her scales, her voice feeling better than it ever had. His look of approval told her that he had noticed too. The aria went just as well as Emmy felt her voice soar effortlessly over the incredibly high notes. It felt as if she had been born to sing this way. When she was done, she breathed in deeply, a smile curving her lips.

"You've been practicing, Em." Charles said, impressed as he leaned casually on the piano.

"A bit." She agreed, thinking of how she'd pretended to be sick when her family had gone to visit with her grandmother and had practiced all afternoon in her mother's music room.

"You're going to get it." He said, staring at her. Unable to hold back a smile, she moved toward him and excitedly kissed him on the lips. When she pulled back, his hands slid down her arms to take her hands.

"I don't want to ruin this with you." He said when she rested her forehead against his.

"You couldn't." Emmy insisted, squeezing her large hands.

"I'm going to call on you, Emmy." Charles said suddenly, standing up and letting go of her. He straightened his shirt and sighed. "I am going to do this properly. You and I can still have our lessons, but I am going to make my intentions perfectly clear."

"C-Clear?" She asked, eyeing him. He nodded.

"Emmy," His voice was serious and his eyes were not laughing anymore. "I am going to call on you, because I have every intention of marrying you."

The music fell from her shaking hand as she could only gape at him. Vaguely, she looked down at it the papers spread over the floor.

"Say something, Emmeline, please."

"Why would you want to marry me?" She asked. "You could marry anybody."

"I don't want _anybody_." Charles explained gently. "I want you. It's been you for a long time now."

"What about Chloe?" She asked, sinking to sit on his vacated piano bench.

"Emmy, forget about Chloe. She's nothing. I was very, _very_ drunk. And thankfully, all that happened was a kiss."

Emmy cringed, thinking of Chloe kissing her Charles.

Her Charles?

"Unless of course, you don't want me." Charles went on, "I would never force you to marry me. If you don't think you could be happy with a lowly architect—"

"D-Don't say things l-like that." She whispered. "I could never think that. J-Just because Dad is a Comte…I would never…that is to say—" Emmy stopped herself, trying to right her breathing. "I would love to be married to you."

"I'm happy to hear you say that." Charles finally smiled, moving closer to her and drawing her into a warm embrace. It was a comforting, safe feeling, being locked in his arms. "Shall I come home with you tonight and speak with your father?"

"Would you?" She heard herself ask and felt him smile into her hair.

"Let's go right now." He said, reaching for his jacket. She stopped him.

"Charles, you'll die from the heat!"

"It would be improper for me to ask for your hand in marriage dressed like this." He laughed. A grin crept onto her face too.

* * *

Tris stared impatiently at the idiotic creature his mother had put in front of him. He was throwing a dinner party and the Marchioness had taken it upon herself to invite her personal choice of bride. The daughter of an Earl, Cecily Harrington, a vapid, butter blonde. She was beautiful to the eye, no doubt, but Tris could see from the little conversation that he'd attempted with the woman that she was about as dumb as a rock. She relied on her looks to get by in life and no doubt was planning on becoming the wife of an aristocrat. In fact, Tris was sure she expected it.

He could do worse, he supposed. It wasn't as if he was deluding himself into thinking he was going to fall in love. Though it couldn't, in all truth, hurt to have a wife that he didn't want to kill every time she spoke.

Disgusted, he slipped from the dining room when Cecily turned to speak with another, unfortunate looking woman. Tiredly, he trudged upstairs to his study, passing his mother's private parlor on the way. It was hanging open, to his shock, since she always locked it before she left it. Curiosity got the better of him as he looked both ways before slipping inside the room and shutting the door behind him. He lit a lamp and looked around suspiciously. Tris had always wondered what his mother was up to when she was in this room, toiling.

He peered at the books on her shelves which were nothing but decoration, he could tell, because they were covered in a layer of dust. Her reading glasses sat on one of the end tables that was covered with mail. His eyes flickered to the drawer.

Gently, he pulled it open and looked inside it. It was full of stationery and ink pens for her to write letters and correspond with her peers. Tris was just going to close the drawer when he noticed a crumpled letter inside, pushed to the back. Frowning, he crouched and drew it out between his thumb and forefinger.

He opened it and began to read, realizing straight away what had happened. His eyes widened.

_Dear Bella, _

_I had to write you as soon as I arrived home from the docks—_

"What are you _doing?_" His mother's indignant voice came from the doorway. Tris glared at her with blazing green eyes.

"You unimaginable _bitch._" He said, thrusting the crumpled paper into her waiting hands. Taken aback, she looked down at the letter.

"What is this? What do I care about some love letter?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He felt the urge to strangle her as he advanced on her. Backing away, she stopped against the wall. "Tristan, stop this!" For the first time in his life, Tris heard fear in his mother's voice.

"I knew you to be capable of some pretty awful things, but this is quite possibly the worst." His eyes filled with angry tears. "You took this letter before Frederic had mailed it! Bella thought I had forgotten her! _You_ are _the _most despicable person—"

"Tristan, I didn't _do _this!" She cried, pushing at his chest. He pulled away from his mother, pointing at the door.

"I want you _out_!" He screamed, unable to control the fury ragining through him. "Tonight, I am leaving for Paris to get Bella back, and when I return, you had _better_ be gone from this house if you know what is good for you, _my lady!_"

"Tristan!" His mother began to sob, "I didn't do this, I swear it, I—"

"Shut up!" Tris growled. "Goodbye Mother. Burn in Hell."

Snatching the letter away from her, he clutched it to his chest and stormed from the room, slamming her door so hard that it shook on its hinges.

Inside his own room, he began to pack furiously, unable to see through his own tears. Trying to breathe, Tris sat on the bed and opened the letter again, reading his words again.

_Dear Bella, _

_I had to write you as soon as I arrived home from the docks. I hate that you left, and things just don't feel right without you here with me. I don't know what I would do if you ever came to your senses about me, Bella. I love you so much, It literally hurts to be away from you. When you come back for good, I promise you will be so happy. You and I and Nessa and Edward. _

_I love you Isabella Rose. _

_Yours always, _

_Tris_

Folding the letter again, he put it in the inside pocket of his coat and returned to his clothes.

* * *

**Wow. I am really sorry. I am not happy with this chapter. lol I think I'll rewrite it later. **

**Sydnee  
**


	19. Intending to Resolve

Gustave was going through his mail, trying to sort through the invitations and letters that he'd received. When one was an unmarried male, not to mention titled, one found themselves flooded with compliments and invitations to every event imaginable. The lengths at which a girl would have to subject herself to catch a husband disgusted him. The infinite amount of clothes and underclothes they had to wear for propriety's sake was an abomination. An unthinkable amount of time went into coiffing their hair and making sure that every last detail was perfect. The thought of Claire Destler preening before a mirror was laughable to him. Claire never tried to impress anyone, which was one of the things he loved about her. Though her hair was always immaculately pinned and her dresses pressed to perfection, she never seemed like she had spent hours on the way she looked.

A knock on the front door brought him out of his thoughts and drew his attention away from the pile of mail. He paused, wondering where his parents were at the moment, and decided to open the door himself since he was so near. He was surprised to see Claire standing there, looking fit to be tied and adorably unkempt. Her long satiny black hair was tied back with a ribbon and hung in loose curls down her back. Her green eyes were slitted and her cheeks were incredibly pink with irritation.

"My brother is an idiot." She said, breaking the silence and inviting herself into the house. He shut the door and turned to stare at her in bemusement.

"Claire, is everything all right with you?" He asked. Shaking her head, she folded her arms.

"I just came to the conclusion that my brother's best friend _didn't _desert our sister and bloody Charles is so bull headed that he won't even hear it! He was waiting on some girl to arrive and couldn't be bothered with my stupid ramblings!"

Gustave had to fight to keep from smiling down at her. She looked quite like a feisty little girl who hasn't gotten her way.

"Well, I'm listening." He replied, trying to be helpful.

"I don't think Tris wrote that letter. I think someone else is involved here."

"Like the Marchioness?" Gustave asked. Impressed, she nodded.

"Yes…how did you—"

"Claire, it's no secret that Lady Keating is a nightmare." He replied, guiding her into the sitting room. "I don't know, Claire…why hasn't he tried to write again if that's true?"

"I don't know…I just," She paused to take a quick breath. "I just can't believe that he would profess his love for her and then rescind it that easily…I don't want to believe that." Crouching in front of her, Gustave looked up into her face.

"You are so afraid, aren't you?" He said gently.

"Of what?" Claire demanded, glaring at him.

"Yes, you're afraid of admitting you're wrong. You're afraid of falling in love…" He said.

"What do you know about love, Gustave?" She challenged, meeting his eyes. "I thought it was a priority of men to avoid marriage at all costs."

"Not quite…maybe at first that is our intention, but then we meet the right person and it all seems to click." He assured her.

"I want to believe you, Gustave." Claire said miserably. "I really do."

"I know." He said, nodding. "Maybe someday I can prove it to you."

"Will you help me with Bella?" She asked hopefully. "I don't think I can promise anything until I know things are going to turn out right for her." Claire turned wistful. "Nobody deserves to be happy more than Bella."

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, standing up.

"I think we should—"

"_Claire?_ What the hell are you doing here?" Gustave turned to see Charles and his sister Emmy standing together in the doorway, looking oddly at the two of them. Instantly, she was on her feet.

"Well I had to talk to _someone_ and since _you _weren't listening, I thought—"

"You sought out the _Vicomte_ alone?" Charles asked, stepping toward her.

"Actually, I was looking for Emmy originally." She fired back, "Aren't you supposed to be dallying with some airhead right now?" Gustave noticed his little sister's face turn very pink and he felt his eyes widen.

"You can't just go gallivanting about the city alone!" Charles cried. "It isn't safe, and people will say things like—"

"Like what?" Claire and Charles's eyes blazed identical shades of silver green. Gustave eyed his own sibling suspiciously, looking from her to Charles.

"Like the exact type of girl Chloe Blanchard is." Charles said angrily. Claire lunged for her brother and Gustave caught her around the waist, holding her back.

"Enough!" Emmy said, stepping between the two. Looking up at Charles, she pleaded with her eyes. Instantly, he softened.

"What is going on here?" Gustave asked, feeling Claire relax in his arms. Still, he did not let go of her.

"Where is Dad?" Emmy asked, avoiding his eyes. Gustave nodded toward the stairs.

"He's—"

"Right here." The Comte said, appearing with their mother in the doorway. "What is all the fighting about?"

"Charles, is everything fine with your parents?" Gustave's mother asked worriedly.

"Fine." Charles affirmed, looking more than slightly terrified. "There was something I needed to discuss with you, Monsieur le Comte."

"Oh?" Raoul asked, looking as if he knew precisely what Charles was going to tell him. He perched on the arm of the chair that Christine had sat in.

"Yes, I have decided to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage, Monsieur." He said. Gustave felt his arms drop away from Claire as she stumbled in shock. A small smirk was evident on his father's face as he studied Charles Destler, who looked more intimidated than ever.

"Do your parents know of your intentions, Charles?" His mother asked. Charles shook my head.

"It was sort of a spontaneous decision." He admitted.

"And tell me of your plans for once you have married my daughter." Dad said, putting his arm around Mother's shoulders.

"Well, I…had thought that I would continue on with my architecture and perhaps buy a proper home here in town…" Charles looked helplessly at Gustave, who shrugged. He had never asked for a girl's hand, and if Charles Destler was scared, he didn't want to imagine what _he _would be like when the time came for him. Not to mention, if the girl he ended up marrying was Claire, he didn't relish the fact that Monsieur Destler was the person to whom he had to ask permission from.

"I think that sounds in order." His father said winking down at his mother, who smacked his arm.

"Don't torture the poor boy." She rose, taking pity on Charles. "This was bound to happen."

"Of course you are right, my love." The Comte replied, smiling at his daughter, who looked like she would either burst into tears or laughter. "I give you my blessing." Claire stared at her brother in quiet disbelief. She was still upset, he could tell, but the thought of Charles getting married had obviously brightened her mood.

"When do you plan on marrying?" Christine asked, pulling Emmy into her arms. Charles composed himself admirably, hiding his excitement.

"Soon." He replied. "As soon as possible."

"I don't want a big wedding." Emmy said quietly, taking everyone by surprise.

"What?" Their mother asked, smoothing Emmy's curls. Emmy nodded.

"I don't want all of the fanfare. I don't want to have to invite people I don't like." She sighed, looking at Charles. "I don't want to see Chloe's face on my wedding day."

"Trust me, Chloe is not setting foot near our wedding." Charles said acidly and the Comte nodded in agreement.

"After your troubles with her, Emmy…I should think not."

"I don't want all of the talk." Emmy sighed. "Dad, I think we should elope."

"Let's be rational, sweetheart." Christine said soothingly, rubbing Emmy's back. "An elopement will cause more scandal. What I think we should do, is have a small wedding for just our families and then when the papers ask, we will tell them that the two of you were secretly engaged."

"I agree with your mother," Raoul said calmly. "We don't want people to get the wrong idea."

Claire moved forward to embrace Emmy tightly, grinning so wide that it looked like it hurt.

"I always wanted you to be my sister, and now you are!" She said into Emmy's shoulder. Emmy smiled, holding her back.

"I always felt like I was…I can't wait to tell Julienne!" She replied happily.

"Maman is going to die of happiness, Charles." Claire laughed. He smiled, forgetting his earlier anger with his younger sister. "Why didn't you two _tell_ me?"

"It just sort of happened." Emmy said breathlessly, as their parents slipped from the room. "I don't know how, but everything changed."

"Are you in love?" Claire asked, piercing Gustave's heart with her hope. Emmy bit her lip, coming down a bit.

"We haven't discussed anything like that yet." She explained.

"We know we want to be married." Charles interrupted. "One step at a time, right Em?" She nodded gratefully.

"Absolutely."

"Come on then, I am going to escort you home, Claire Bear and we'll tell Mother and Dad." Charles said happily, taking Emmy's hand. "Would you come?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I'd love that."

Claire met Gustave's eyes and managed half a smile before being pulled from the room with her brother and his sister. A strong melancholy filled him as he watched her go. When the door had closed, Gustave nearly staggered with the realization that he wished he was the one who had just become engaged.

And furthermore, he wished he were engaged to Claire.

Bloody Hell.

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

Bella played with the rambunctious bunch of her cousins and siblings at her brother's engagement party. Gaston and his children were visiting his mother and father in Orleans for the weekend and it had been a very lonely few days without them. She had become very fond of Gaston, though she still did not find herself fancying him. It was, she imagined, very similar to what her mother felt for Uncle Ansel. While she adored him, there had simply never been enough of a spark between them to hold them together. It worried her, tying him into a marriage that was not satisfactory. She _wanted_ to feel for him, but no matter how hard she tried, he seemed more and more like a dear brother than her future husband.

"Bella, we're going to play hide and seek!" Esme cried, running toward her with Giselle, Nora and the two little boys in tow. Marcus was a little sandy haired imp at nine years old and Thomas was dark haired like Aunt Fern and was nearly four. It was amazing how fast they had grown…Bella could still remember when her aunt had been carrying Thomas, who was so big, they had thought he might be twins.

"Well that sounds like fun!" Bella laughed, as her sister held up a satin scarf.

"I want you to be the seeker!" Esme announced, as Bella grinned.

"And I have to wear this on my eyes?" She asked, taking the fabric from the ten year old. Esme nodded devilishly.

"And you have to count to one hundred." Young Giselle said with a giggle.

"Who is going to hide with Thomas?" Bella asked, eyeing the curious three year old as he began to fidget with his shirt.

"I will." Nora said, the more serious twin. She took the little boy's hand. Nodding, Bella tied the scarf around her eyes and began to count aloud.

"One…two…three…."

She heard the excited shrieks of the children as they tried to quickly find hiding spaces before she reached one hundred and smiled to herself.

"Thirty-nine. Forty…forty-one…" She went on, hearing footsteps behind her. "You're supposed to be hiding…." Bella whispered, laughing to herself. "It doesn't count if I catch you right away," She added, "Go on!" When no one responded, she frowned and pulled the scarf off. Turning around, she planned to confront one of the children when she saw that it was no child who had come there.

Standing directly in front of her, dressed in rumpled, wrinkled, unchanged clothing was Tris. His hair was too long, his face unshaven and his green eyes desperate. Dark circles lay under his eyes and his skin was extraordinarily pale. If she hadn't been so horrified, she might have felt sorry for him.

"What are you _doing_ here?" She asked, hating the shrillness that had come into her voice. Silently, he stepped forward and thrust a worn, crumpled piece of paper into her hand. Bella nearly dropped it, her hand was shaking so badly. Opening it, she began to read it.

_Dear Bella, _

_I had to write you as soon as I arrived home from the docks. I hate that you left, and things just don't feel right without you here with me. I don't know what I would do if you ever came to your senses about me, Bella. I love you so much, It literally hurts to be away from you. When you come back for good, I promise you will be so happy. You and I and Nessa and Edward. _

_I love you Isabella Rose. _

_Yours always, _

_Tris_

Looking up at him, she stared in confusion.

"I don't understand." She said barely above a whisper.

"I don't either." Tris said, sounding like a completely different person from the one she had left in London. "I wrote this that same day." He explained, gesturing to the piece of paper. "And then I never heard from you."

"This isn't what you wrote." Bella heard herself say, blinking rapidly against the tears. "_You_ are the one who broke it off, Tris, not me!"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, wounded. "I waited every day for you to write back, and then I received your ring back…and your letter telling me that you were marrying _Belgrave?_ How_ could _you?"

"How _couldn't _I?" She asked indignantly. "Bella, This is very difficult for me to tell you, but I must break off our engagement. I acted irrationally in asking you to marry me. I have a responsibility to my family. We must not see each other again. I'm sorry for your inconvenience." She had memorized the awful letter long ago. Staring at her in stunned silence, he shook his head repeatedly.

"Those aren't my words." Tris insisted. "I didn't write that!"

"Who did then?" She asked, feeling the hot tears slide down her cheek. "I _knew_ all along it was too good to be true! I can't believe how _stupid_ I was to believe…" Bella made a sound of disgust. "That's me! Stupid, ugly Bella…she's so easy to take advantage of—"

"_Stop it!_" He cried. "Right. Now." She stopped breathing as he moved forward. "If I _ever_ hear you speak that way of yourself again, I swear, I cannot be responsible for my actions. My mother must have switched the letters—"

"Oh, what difference does it make?" She fired, feeling angrier than she ever had. Vaguely, she was aware that people had begun to hear their argument and were gathering nearby to listen. "I'd never be accepted as a Marchioness and you know it, Tris!" Miserably, she hugged her arms around herself. "I'm not good enough. I've accepted it. Now please leave me alone, so I can live my life in peace!"

"If you don't love me, I will leave." Tris said quietly, watching her with unsteady eyes. "Say you don't love me anymore."

"Go away!" She cried, sniffling as her nose began to run too. He caught her by the arms.

"Not until you say it." He replied, staring down at her with a dark, intense gaze. Her chin began to quiver as she began to sob. "Say it, Isabella."

"I _can't_!" She screamed, pushing futilely at his chest. "Are you happy now, Tristan Coolidge? I _love _you still! I can't help it!"

Reaching into his inner pocket, he withdrew the ring she had returned to him. Taking her hand he placed the ring in her palm and closed her fingers around it.

"This belongs to you." He said softly. The feel of the ring in her hand brought an odd sense of relief, like returning home.

"But…I – I'm engaged…" She said, looking at the other engagement ring she wore. The crowd that had formed around them was growing larger by the moment.

"I know." Tris nodded. Bella looked up to see her parents standing there with Gaston.

"Oh God…" She whispered, seeing his stricken face.

"Bella." Gaston said, stepping forward. Biting her lip, she tried to smile through her tears, but was unsuccessful.

"Gaston, I—"

"I know." He said sadly. "You can't marry me." A melancholy smile curved his lips. "I know."

"I am so sorry…" She sobbed, throwing her arms around him. "I owe you so much, I—"

"Bella, I came today to break it off." Gaston said, shocking her. A few gasps from the crowd could be heard. A small smile broke his frown. "I've met someone."

"You have?" Bella asked, looking back at a sullen Tris. "Who?" He turned his head to where her Aunts and a few of her older cousins stood. Her cousins Nathan and Daniel with their wives and Amelia, who looked more than a little stunned.

"Amelia." He said finally. Bella felt her jaw drop as she heard Claire let out a sound similar to a snort.

"Oh, Bella…I don't know how it happened!" Amy said, hurrying to take Bella's hands. "We ran into each other in town after the twins' birthday party and we've been meeting once a week for dinner and we got to talking about when Michael was alive and —"

"You love Amelia?" Bella asked Gaston. He looked positively ashamed.

"I do."

"You do?" Amelia asked, obviously as taken aback as everyone else was by this revelation. Gaston smiled shakily at her.

"Yes."

"I can't believe it, I…" Amy began to cry. "I…I'm so sorry Bella!" Drawing her cousin in, she held her tenderly.

"Amy…no one deserves this more than you do." Bella assured her. "I am not angry."

"Do you think Michael would be angry?"Amelia asked tearfully.

"No, I think he would be proud of you, Amy." Bella assured her. Letting go of her, she turned Amelia toward Gaston.

"Gaston, I love you too. I have from almost the start…I didn't want to say anything because—"

He pulled her in to kiss her tenderly, and Bella nearly forgot that she was standing awkwardly beside Tris watching her widowed cousin kiss her now former fiancé while she waited to sort out things with her other former fiance. In all honesty, she had never been more confused. She looked at her father for some guidance and he nodded approvingly at her. Maman smiled encouragingly, giving Bella the courage to turn and look at Tris again.

"You look like hell." She managed to say with half a smile. He nodded.

"I know." He agreed. Opening her palm, she gingerly took the ring and placed it back on her left ring finger.

"I'm sorry." She said finally, realizing she was going to have to do this with an audience whether she liked it or not.

"Good God, _why?_" Tris asked, staring at her incredulously.

"I should have never believed you could do such a thing. I doubted you…and I knew better, and I am so sorry."

"Bella, are you going to marry me or not?" He asked, trying to sound impatient. It felt as if she could breathe normally again and for the first time in ages, she was breathing fresh air again. Every bad thing that had happened over the past week, everything that had gone wrong didn't matter any longer.

"I'd like that." She said, starting toward his open arms, when she was thrown back and a primal sound like an angry animal interrupted their reunion.

"I'm going to _murder_ you, Coolidge!"

"Charles, _no!_"

* * *

**I hate to say it, but it's almost over. **

**But don't worry...there is still another follow up to this one. It will follow Esme, Lillian and Julienne. **

**I am going to edit it all later, no worries.  
**


	20. Bella's Forays in the Night

"Oh, Bloody Hell!" Bella heard Claire say in annoyance. Their mother caught Bella when Charles threw her back toward their parents. He and Emmy had just joined the group and Emmy looked like she wanted to climb into the shrubbery and hide. Her face was a bright shade of pink, leading Bella to believe that Charles had been up to no good with his soon to be bride.

"Charles wait." Tris was trying to say as he impressively dodged Charles's fist. Bella had never realized how agile the man really was. While Charles was thicker and more muscular, Tris was even taller and had a leaner, quicker body. Before Charles could go at him again, however, their father intervened and expertly threw Charles away from Tris. Standing between them, he held Charles by the arms and looked his son in the face.

"Hear him out." Erik said warningly to Charles. "Use your mind, not your fists. Remember what I taught you?" Charles's breathing began to slow and his face began to return to a normal shade. "When you lose your head-"

"You lose everything." Charles finished for him, nodding. "I remember." Their father did not, however, let go of Charles as he moved aside so that he could face Tris. "Go on." Charles said, looking at Bella. She pleaded with her eyes.

"We were sabotaged, Charles! My mother was behind it, I have no doubt," Tris said quietly. He looked like he might be ill. "I found this wadded in the back of the stationery drawer in her private parlor." He explained, holding up the mangled piece of parchment.

"It was the letter Bella was supposed to receive."

"Your mother would stoop so low as to forge a letter from you to rid herself of my sister?"

"My mother is a disgusting and vile woman." He pointed out. "When I didn't hear from Bella, I began to worry, and then I received her letter which included her engagement ring and a brief note telling me she was sorry and was marrying someone else." His eyes flickered over where Gaston and Amelia stood beside each other. Horrified, Amelia grabbed Gaston's arm. He gave her a reassuring look. Charles's eyes narrowed.

"Who is to say that this won't happen again?" He asked, challengingly. "I won't have my sister hurt every time your mother wants revenge."

"That's none of your business!" Bella cried sharply. "Charles, I am an adult and I think you should stay out of things that don't concern you!" Her brother turned to look at her, wounded.

"Bella, you don't understand." He pleaded, forgetting Tris. "That look on your face, when you came inside that day with Claire - If I ever have to see you look like that again, it will kill me. Just like when your doll went missing. Remember?"

"Charles," She said firmly, but lovingly, "I lost that doll years ago." She reached up to touch his cheek. "I know you want to protect all of us, and I love you so very much for it, but I can take care of myself. Don't you see? I don't need to be protected. Give me credit!"

"But you were hurt." Charles replied, sounding close to tears. Their mother joined them and put her hand on Charles's back.

"Sweetheart," Evie said, looking up into his face. "Everybody hurts some time in their lives. Unfortunately, it's something one must learn to accept."

Bella looked past Charles at their father, who gave her a small smile. A surge of appreciation for his strong, calming presence rushed through her. Charles patted Bella's cheek and turned back to Tris.

"Don't let this happen again." He said, sounding far less menacing. Tris nodded, his emerald eyes dark.

"I don't plan on leaving her side ever again." He assured Charles. "I'm sorry." Tris looked around at the few people who had remained. Evie smiled at Tris.

"It wasn't your fault. It was a horrible no one could blame you."

"I blame myself for placing my trust into the wrong people." Tris said, straightening. He met Charles's eyes. Bella watched her brother sigh and pat Tris's arm before turning and holding his arm out for Emmy to come to him.

"Tris, darling," Bella's mother said, "Why don't we all go inside and let you get cleaned up and comfortable?"

"Good idea." Her father agreed, taking her mother's arm and kissing her temple. "Charles, I think we'd better go inform the rest of the guests that the party is coming to a close."

Emmy gave Bella an apologetic look before following Charles out of the garden, finally leaving Tris and Bella alone.

"Well that was unnecessary." Bella said after a beat, trying to lessen the tension. For the first time, she was really unsure of what she should do.

"He wouldn't be a good brother if he didn't do what he did, Bella." Tris said calmly.

"I know." She sighed. "It's so silly, but now that I finally have you to myself, I have no idea what to do or say." A small, nervous laugh came out of her.

"I know what you mean." He said, with a small grin.

"It's a lot to take in." Bella said.

"Yes." Tris agreed. Now that it had been resolved, the poor thing looked like he might pass out from exhaustion. He swayed slightly where he stood and his eyes were a bit glazed.

Without thinking, she rushed forward and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her ear against his chest and holding him as tightly as her arms would allow. He reciprocated, holding her in his arms and bending to bury his face in her neck. He began to cry, she could tell by the way his shoulders shook. Remembering the way her mother always comforted her father, she brought one of her hands up to soothingly pet his hair while the other rubbed his back.

"There now," She said softly. "It's all over."

"Bella." He sobbed, his voice muffled in her skin.

She eased away, holding his hands in hers and staring up into his teary face.

"Tris," Taking his handkerchief out of his front pocket, she dabbed his eyes with it. "You look dead on your feet. You need to go inside and clean up and sleep."

"Don't want to sleep." He said, yawning. "Jus' want to be wi' you."

"We're going to be together always." She promised, guiding him by the hand towards the house. "But I won't have you keel over because you are too bloody stubborn to sleep."

* * *

Claire's family and the Chagnys were all gathered casually around the parlor after the guests had filed out of the Destler's home. Claire sat between Julienne and her father, who was sitting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day, casually chatting with the Comte and Comtess. Their mother was sitting on the love seat with Bella's head on her shoulder. Maman was gently caressing Bella's hair as poor Bella tried to keep her eyes open.

Emmy was sitting in an armchair with Charles sitting on the floor at her feet. They were speaking softly together. It amazed Claire how connected the two seemed. It looked nearly effortless, their understanding of each other. Not to mention, Claire had never seen adoration like that in her brother's eyes. It almost made her forgive him for acting like an imbecile earlier in the day.

Tris appeared in the doorway looking much closer to his normal self than he had earlier. He had shaven and, though his hair was longer than it had always been, it was not unattractive on him. Bella's head raised instantly, though she too looked like she would rather sleep than do anything. Nodding politely, Tris took the nearest available seat.

"Feeling better, dear?" Their mother asked Tris. He nodded.

"Yes. Thank you." He sounded weak, but happier than he had before. "I cannot thank you enough for being so kind."

"It wasn't as if you could have helped it." Dad assured him, glancing at Bella, who still looked ready to drop at any moment. Claire looked at where Gustave was sitting, and he must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked at her. Quickly, she averted her gaze, but a moment too late and she saw the curiosity in his eyes. Standing up, she eased her way toward the door and nodded for him to follow her into the hall.

Moments later, he joined her.

"What is it?" He asked, concerned.

"Why can't I be normal?" She asked him. Staring at her in confusion, he shook his head.

"You aren't normal?"

"Why can't I just let go and let myself trust you?" She knew it sounded insane. "I want so badly to believe everything, but something is still holding me back, I don't know why!" Sighing raggedly, she looked up at him. "And the worst part is, I am so afraid that I am going to push you away."

"I'm not going anywhere, Claire." Gustave replied, holding her gently by the shoulders.

"But what if-"

His lips came lightly down onto hers as his arms wrapped around her, warming her pleasantly. He smelled of cinnamon and soap and it was delicious to her. A small sound left her as she felt the soft, velvety tip of his tongue run over her bottom lip. Daringly, she bit his bottom lip, drawing a groan from him. He pulled back abruptly, cradling her against his chest. Claire realize, with mild horror that they had been caught.

"Oh dear." Bella said softly, biting her bottom lip as Keating joined her with an astonished look on his face. Tris gave Gustave a slight smirk, showing some semblance of his normal personality. Claire looked up at Gustave, who seemed unsure whether he was supposed to be relieved or not. Claire met Bella's smiling amber eyes that she loved so much. No matter how bad things were, Claire always found comfort in her older sister's eyes. A slightly amused look was on Bella's face, irritating Claire. Not because she'd been caught, but because Bella knew very well how Claire had felt for Gustave as a girl and was no doubt thrilled to death for her. This was even more idiotic of Claire since she should have been happy too. Every dream she'd ever had was coming true and she was running from it. Something still held her back.

Fear.

She had staked too much time of her life into loving Gustave de Chagny and did not want to get hurt. Until she could know that he felt the same way for her, she could not allow herself to love him.

"Bella," She heard herself say against Gustave's chest. "If you wouldn't mention this to anyone just yet, I will be forever grateful." She could feel Gustave's heavy breathing and the rapid thumping of his heart.

"I never saw a thing." Bella assured her, pulling Tris past them by the hand.

"I am going to have you if it kills me, Claire." Gustave finally said once they had gone. "I am going to be here first thing tomorrow morning to get you."

"For what?" She asked, confused. He drew away and folded his arms in a business like manner.

"I am courting you. Whether or not you like it, I am going to court you." He sighed. "No more of these games, Claire."

"If you think that I am just going to stand here and let you lord over me like some tyrant, then you are a bloody fool!" She raged, bristling with ire.

"Funny," He mused, "I don't recall giving you a choice in the matter." The smug tone in his soft voice made her want to kill him and throw herself at him all at once. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Ten o'clock, Claire." He added, grinning rakishly. Glaring at him, she was unable to say a word in response as he disappeared back into the parlor.

This was _war._

* * *

Bella lay awake in her bed two hours later after forcing Tris to go to bed. He'd barely been awake when he'd returned to the parlor and she knew if he didn't sleep, that he would be about as valuable as Esme in a crisis. The house had long quieted after the Chagnys and Charles had gone and her parents had retired to their room. Now, Bella was restless after an eventful and emotional day. Though her body was exhausted, her mind was fully active.

A loud sigh left her as she threw her covers off and drew on her dressing gown. Padding to the door, she tried very hard to open it without making noise. Peering down the hall, she was silently thankful that her parents' room was at the other end of the house. She crept stealthily, only stubbing her toe once on a table, to where Tris was sleeping in Charles's old bedroom. Pressing her ear against the door, she listened for movement, but heard nothing. She thought a moment, biting her lip, before opting to go inside. Another survey of the empty hall before gently opening the door and letting it click gently shut behind her. Thinking better, she also locked it. The only sound in the room was the even breathing of poor Tris, who had fallen asleep the moment his head touched the pillows.

Bella stood beside the bed, looking down at him. He slept with no shirt on, the covers only covering to his waist, where the top of his underwear was visible. A secret thrill ran through her at the thought of seeing him so exposed, followed by an immediate rush of shame. People were not meant to see other people so naked except in the marriage bed. And they certainly were not married yet.

_But we will be…_Her mind reminded her, soothing her nerves. Once again, Bella found herself marveling at the fact that Tris truly wanted her for his wife. So much, that he'd come back for her and faced her bear of an overprotective brother and father. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she eased the covers up and slipped herself inside them, savoring the warmth coming off of Tris and pressing her body next to his. Carefully, she laid her head in the crook of his outstretched arm and draped her arm over his body. A lovely, all man scent was on his skin. It was soap and salt and _him._ A long, ragged sigh left her as she held him tighter.

* * *

Tris's eyes opened abruptly at the sound of her sigh. A quick jolt of panic replaced by shock swept through his body, making him tense and relax all in a matter of seconds. For a moment, he forgot where he was, seeing the dark head of hair nestled against his shoulder. Frowning, he realized they were both fully dressed and even further, he realized he was not in his own room. Looking down into her face, he saw that Bella was in his bed with him.

He stopped breathing.

Bella…was in _his_ bed…with _him._

Tris willed his body not to react to the nearness of her, but to no avail. It had been so long since he'd last lain with a woman, that he was like a green boy again. Every nerve had come back to life…along with every part of him.

"Bella." He whispered finally, breaking the silence. "What in the hell are you doing?" Her amber eyes turned to look up at him and her full, cushiony lips curved.

"I needed to be with you." She admitted sheepishly. "Are you uncomfortable?" Closing his eyes, he tried very hard to reign in the heaviness of his breath. She was so bloody innocent, that she had no idea what she was doing to him. Torturing him with the heat of her nubile young body. He could not see her pale legs, but he could feel one of them twined over his leg. He swallowed before answering.

"No…Not uncomfortable…just--" Her hand touched his stomach and he arched involuntarily into her silky hand. Tris watched her eyes widen at his reaction. "You should probably go back to your room." He rasped, trying to hold himself back.

"You don't want me with you?" Bella asked, hurt. Biting his cheek, he shook his head.

"That's the problem, Bella…" He said desperately. "I want you here _too_ much…" A small, hesitant smile came onto her face.

"Are you saying that you're…that you…" She breathed, blushing. He could tell, even in the dark room. "You're," Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Aroused?" Stifling a moan as her hand moved up his chest, he nodded.

"_Yes." _He hissed. A curious, devilish look came onto her innocent face as she lifted the covers. "Bella,_ no._" He growled at her. Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she reached down toward the bulge that had become horribly apparent in his drawers. Tris vaguely heard a small groan leave his throat as her small hand closed down on it. He grabbed her wrist gently, drawing it away from him and bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her palm.

"Wait until we're married." He begged her. "You don't want this right now…"

"I want you now." She replied in a small voice. "I don't want to wait. I've waited long enough for you."

"I won't ruin you." Tris insisted, sitting up and looking at her. Her nightgown had slipped down, revealing her creamy shoulder and the top of one of her breasts. Her long, mahogany hair hung like satin all around her.

"I want you to." She said, moving toward him again and ghosting her lips over the hollow of his throat. He realized, with a cross between amusement and irritation that she was seducing him…taking advantage of him. One of his hands twined into her hair, holding her face against his skin even though he knew he should be making her back away. He caught her left hand in his, seeing his engagement ring once again in its rightful place. A possessive urge sped through his veins as he brought one of her fingers to his lips and flicked his tongue over the fingertip. Her eyes nearly closed as a breathy gasp left her and her head lolled back.

Taking her face in his hands, he brought her lips roughly to his. Bella's lips were plush and full and perfect for kissing. To his surprise, she was the first to deepen the kiss, flicking her tongue forward teasingly. He caught hers with his and began a skillful dance of seduction. Remembering his own extensive knowledge of female pleasures, he realized he could bring her to higher heights than she had ever dreamed of.

Drawing away, he reached down and pulled up the hem of her nightgown and dragged it off of her in one smooth movement, leaving her naked and vulnerable. Modestly, her arms moved to cover the ample shapes of her breasts, but not before he'd glimpsed the erect, pink buds of her nipples. She was even more beautiful than he'd fantasized about. From her surprisingly lush bosom, her waist was tiny in contrast and blossomed out into a pair of wide curving hips. She had the form that most women would have killed for and none of her sisters had inherited that. Claire and Julienne were taller and thinner while Madeleine, though shorter like Bella, was not as curvaceous.

"Bella," He said after a moment of being unable to speak, "Are you sure you want this?" He asked. "I could never forgive myself if this isn't what you want--"

"Shh…" She soothed, rising onto her knees and putting her hands on his shoulder, exposing herself to him completely. Her lips brushed lightly over his as he finally allowed his hands to move up her sides and feel the delightful way her body curved. He rose with her onto his knees and tilted her head up to make for an easier kiss. Abandoning her lips, he pressed his mouth to the spot where her neck and her shoulder met, rubbing the spot with the tip of his tongue. Her head dropped back, making her hair hang nearly to her bottom. Tris felt her hands grip the top of his arms as he coaxed her to lie down on her back.

Her dark hair fanned out around her as her half closed eyes met his. She smiled up at him and guided him down to her again. Tris pressed a quick kiss to her lips before returning to his task. Lovingly, he touched the valley between her breasts with his mouth and began his seduction of her. Moving to one of them, he used his tongue to twirl about the small, sensitive nub, watching in delight as it puckered and hardened for him. Wickedly, he blew on the area he'd just moistened with his tongue and watched the surprise in her heavy lidded eyes. Moving to the opposite, side, he repeated the gesture, earning a shiver from her.

"T-Tris…" She stammered, rising up on her elbows. "I don't know what to do…"

Easing her back down onto her back, he kissed her forehead and ran his hand over her flat abdomen.

"Shh…" He soothed. "Let me take care of you." Sliding back down, he kissed the hollow of her stomach, flicking her naval with his tongue. A delightful sound between a gasp and a moan came from her mouth along with his name. He let his hand drift smoothly between her legs to the warm, inviting nest of curls there. Tris watched her eyes widen in shock, but she did not try to stop him. His long fingers found the tiny knot lying hidden in the curls and barely caressed around it, careful never to touch it directly. Bella lurched upward at the sudden sensation. He grinned down at her, manipulating her expertly until she was writhing under his touch, reaching for him. Daring to venture further still, he slid one finger into the slick opening of her sex, touching her sensitive spot from the inside. An audible shriek of pleasure escaped as her back arched, pushing her breasts becomingly forward. It was a vision he'd only ever imagined seeing, but the reality was so much better. She was an exquisite creation.

Tris realized with panic, that he didn't just want her - He _needed_ her. He needed her so badly that he was trembling.

"Bella, listen to me," He said, trying to be rational…trying to ignore the way her chest was heaving with her labored breathing. "If you want to stop, we have to stop _now._"

Sitting up, she took his hand in hers and shook her head.

"No, Tris. I want this because," She sighed, looking down at their entwined fingers, "Even if something else happens and we don't get married--"

"Don't say that, Isabella." He pleaded. She comforted him with her warm brown eyes the color of cider.

"Even if we don't get married," She continued, "I will never lie with another man. You are the only person I could ever be with and I was so, so stupid to believe that awful letter and go running to Gaston Belgrave. I wouldn't have gone through with it…"

"I know." He replied, "But I won't let anything happen this time, Bella. I am not leaving your side for a moment."

"Lie down." She whispered, kissing him innocently on the lips and pushing gently on his chest to make him lie down. Her hands were warm as he let himself fall back onto the sheets and soft pillows. Her dark locks tickled his skin as she bent her head to kiss his chest and the flat, hardness of his stomach. Tris watched one of her hands slide up so she could run her fingertip over his lips. He caught it gently between his teeth, dabbing it with his tongue. Bella bit her lip as he released her finger and she looked down at his underwear, realizing he was still covered. Her nimble fingers unbuttoned them and she drew them down off his waist without blinking twice. Many women who were innocents were startled by their first sight of the male appendage in close proximity, but not Isabella Destler. She was fascinated by it, even as it twitched under her lusty gaze. Her eyes slid sideways to meet his as he watched her through his ardent fog.

Before he could protest, the little minx reached out and took it into her hand, wrapping her fingers around the shaft like she knew what she was doing. It was obvious that she was acting on instinct, but it was driving him mad, especially when she dared to lean down and brush the tip of it with the hot velvet of her small, pink tongue. A long, drawn out groan wretched from his core as he crushed the bed sheets in his fists and his head lolled to the side. He was grateful that her parents were not sleeping too near and even more so, that Charles no longer lived under this roof. Catching her chin in his fingertips, he tilted her head upward to him again, stopping her from ending it far too soon. With his other hand, he reached down again between her legs and felt her wetness. Still, it was too soon for her…she needed to be taken further before he could relieve them both. His hands wrapped around her waist and, more aggressively, he put her on her back again and guided her legs apart. Hooking her slim legs over his shoulders, he cupped her behind in his hands and began to lap teasingly at her bud. Her quiet cries filled the silent room as she thrashed.

Tris slid one of his fingers back inside her, and then, another to ready her for him. Everything he did for her was slow and deliberate with the love he felt. Her fingers twined into his hair, holding him to her.

"N-No, Tris…" She breathed, sighing raggedly. "I n-need you…" He stopped momentarily to look up at her.

"You need me?" He asked, his brow furrowing. "You have me, love." He assured her. Shaking her head, she gripped his shoulders, pulling him upward and glancing down at his engorged sex. "Already?" He asked, kissing her lips tenderly. Nodding, she tried to draw him into her, but he hesitated. "Slow."

"P-Please…" She begged, driving him over his edge of reason.

"Yes." He promised, positioning himself between her legs and pressing cautiously forward. Bella was so deliciously tight and slick, that he slid easily in until he found her barrier. "It's going to hurt." He apologized. Bracing her legs, she herself pushed forward, breaking her own barrier. A slight look of momentary pain passed over her face, but she swallowed and breathed slowly.

"There." She said quietly, kissing his jaw. "Now you don't have to worry about it." He stared down at her incredulously, marveling at her infinite strength. Most girls would have simpered and whined as he'd done his best not to hurt them, but not her. It had made his job much easier. "Tris." Bella urged, "Don't stop." Reaching between them, Tris used his thumb to work her sex as he began to thrust gently. She ran her hands over his arms and down his back, one of them squeezing his bottom as she let herself fall into pleasure.

"You planned this, didn't you," He whispered against her ear, catching the soft lobe in his teeth. "You little wonton…" Her only response was to moan his name. He grinned into her neck, feeling the heavy satin of her hair over his cheek. "You wanted this, didn't you?"

"Yes…" She mewled, digging her nails into his back and making him forget every woman he'd ever touched before her. One of his hands cupped her breast while his lips sought hers. Tris needed to taste her, to devour her. Her cries mounted as the pace increased and he could feel her tightening, convulsing around him and he finally let himself release, burying his face into the crook of her neck and falling against the cushion of her breasts.

"Love you…" He said with a yawn, holding her limply beneath him. Soothingly, she stroked his hair, his shoulders, his back where she had scratched him.

"I love you too, Tris…" He felt her yawn. "So tired…"

"Can't sleep. You have to go back to your room." Tris pointed out. A contemplative sound came from her.

"I know…but I don't want to leave you." She said as he nuzzled into the side of her breast.

"We'd better marry quickly." He replied gravely, running a hand over her abdomen again. "You could be pregnant already."

"I hope I am." She insisted, surprising him. "I don't want to wait another minute to start our lives together." He looked up to see her smiling dreamily. "And if it's God's will that we have a baby together so soon, then so be it." He moved up so that he was the one cradling her against his chest.

"Just don't sleep too long…" He said quietly, holding her tightly for fear she would disappear and it would all have been a dream.

* * *

When Bella woke the next day, she was dressed and lying in her own bed alone, and for a sad moment, she thought she'd imagined the entire night before, but a piece of parchment lying on the pillow beside her eased her mind. She picked it up and unfolded it, squinting in the morning sunlight.

_Bella-_

_It wasn't a dream. Went to meet Charles for luncheon with your father. I will be back soon…_

_I love you…_

_Tris_

Her ring glittered in the golden rays, making her smile as she heard the sounds of her sisters rising and starting their own days. Biting her lip for a moment, she lay back into the pillows, clutching Tris's note to her heart and fell back to sleep.


	21. If The Slipper Fits

"Mademoiselle Destler, the Vicomte de Chagny is here to see you." Jean announced to Claire. Pursing her lips in quiet fury, Claire crossed her arms over her chest.

"You may tell him that I am not feeling up to seeing him." She replied with a wave of her hand. She ignored the looks of her mother and Julienne. Bella still had not risen from bed even though it was nearly eleven! Claire hoped her sister was not ill. A moment later, Gustave strode into the library, looking quite proud of himself. He was dressed remarkably and his fair hair was brushed neatly to the side. He bowed to her mother and sister before turning to her. Jean gave Claire an apologetic look.

"He said it was important."

"I'm sure." She replied acidly, glaring at the Vicomte. He grinned down at her, sitting at her mother's gesture.

"What is going on here?" Evie asked suspiciously, looking at the pair of them. Claire refused to meet Gustave's eyes.

"Monsieur de Chagny, thinks that he is going to court me." She replied staunchly.

"Are you?" Evangeline asked him, trying to mask her amusement.

"Of course." He answered, giving her his most charming smile. Claire fumed, seeing the ease with which he charmed ladies.

"Well I hope you enjoy courting no one, Monsieur." Claire retaliated furiously. "Because I am not going anywhere." Not missing a beat, he crossed his legs and helped himself to a tea cake.

"No matter. I shall sit here with you all day then, Mademoiselle Destler."

To Claire's utter horror, Gustave winked at Julienne, who blushed heavily. Claire scowled at her little sister, the traitorous brat. Claire ignored her mother's pointed gaze as she set about pouring tea for herself pretending as if she didn't notice Gustave was in the room.

She _did_ notice, embarrassingly so, as their kiss from the previous night ran through her mind over and over again. Claire Destler had never imagined that touching a man's tongue with hers could create the heady sensations that it had within her. The tight coiling in the pit of her belly…

"Claire?" Evie asked, bringing Claire's eyes up to meet the bright blue of her mother's. "You're flushed." Claire glanced quickly at Gustave, who was grinning like a fool. With a growl of frustration, she rose, discarding her tea and stalking from the room and down the hall into the vacant library. The infuriating man was at her heels, following her with intent. She spun on him, surprising him. He nearly fell over her, sending them both reeling. Luckily, he was quick enough to regain his footing and catch her around the waist.

"Let go of me, you scoundrel!" She hissed, pushing against his chest. Half a smirk remained as he let go of her waist and she fell the rest of the way to the floor. Claire watched through her fury as he ran a nonchalant hand through his golden brown hair. Pulling herself up, she tossed her long silk curtain of ebony hair behind her shoulder and faced him, eyes blazing. Pointing an accusatory finger at him, she started toward him. "I am not one to be dictated to, and most certainly do _not_ want to be courted by you, Gustave de Chagny!" He pursed his lips, but did not move away from her. "You took nearly a decade to notice me…and then you _manipulated _me into thinking you were decent and good! You took advantage of my feelings!"

"Do you truly believe that, Claire?" He asked, sobering. "You think I would sink so low as to manipulate the daughter of my mother's dearest friend to sleep with her?" Anger crept into his usually soft voice. "You actually _believe _that I would do something like that? Do you think my mother and father would _forgive_ me if I were to hurt one of Erik Destler's girls?" He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "Do you even know what my parents would say if they knew I was intending to court you? My mother would threaten me with my life that if it ended badly, I would be disowned! My father once said to me when I fancied Madeleine, 'Gustave, the Destler girls are all lovely, and you would be an idiot not to fall in love with one of them. But they aren't to be toyed with. If you do fall for one of Erik's daughters, you'd better make damn sure you want her for your wife before you pursue anything.' He said that to me!" Gustave took her by the shoulders with a firm grip. "So do not _ever_ tell me I took advantage of you, Claire Destler, because this is _it_ for me! I would not be here if I didn't have every intention of marrying you! If I have to prove it to you every day for the rest of my miserable life, I will! Just stop pushing me away, damn you!" His blue eyes bore into her light green ones. All Claire could do was stare dumbly at him in a sort of drunken open mouthed stupor. "Do you understand?" He demanded, shaking her slightly, but she managed a small nod.

"You want to marry me?" She asked, feeling slightly choked. Gustave gave her a look of pure exasperation.

"God knows why, but I do." He nodded fiercely. "I want to argue with you until the day I die…and knowing the effect you have on me, you'll probably win every blasted row." She saw the smile come back into his eyes. "What would you have me do, Claire? Get on my knees and kiss your feet?" To her shock, he sunk to his knees and grasped the hem of her dress. As he pulled it upward, she gasped.

"This is not proper!" She whispered, "My mother and little sisters are just down the hall!" He ignored her, grasping one of her slim ankles and removing the shoe. "Gustave, what are you--?" A loud sound of astonishment left her lips as he brought her narrow stockinged foot to his lips and kiss it gently. His eyes drifted up to meet hers wickedly as he grinned against the top of her foot. Reaching into the deep pocket of his morning coat, he withdrew something. Claire's eyes widened as she realized it was her own jeweled slipper. She vaguely remembered losing it the night of his family's spring musicale. He must have found it and kept it all these months! It's sister still sat in her closet. To think that he had held onto it so long…had he been in love with her all along? Her heart began to race erratically against her ribs. The hand gently encircling her ankle guided her small foot into the slipper.

"A perfect fit." Gustave murmured softly. He smiled up at her and her breath caught. She frowned though, feeling something against the bottom of her foot.

"Gustave, there's something in the--" She bent to remove the offending shoe when a flash of gold fell out of the shoe and into his ready hand.

It was a ring.

And he was on one knee.

"Oh my Goodness." She breathed, bringing her hands up to her face. Tears stung her eyes, as she gaped at him, overwhelmed, touched and thoroughly in love.

"Claire Destler, I am so disgustingly, indulgently in love with you that I can't think of anything else. When I close my eyes, the only think I see is your smile and the only thing I hear is your laughter. I love the way you glare at me when you're angry, I love the fact that you hate thunderstorms, I love how you hate the fact that you are the most beautiful woman in the world." His eyes met hers earnestly. "And you are." Sliding the ring to the base of her finger, he took her trembling hand between both of his. "I don't love you because you're perfect. I love you because you are not. And I don't ever want you to change." He stood then, so that he was towering over her. Claire felt her chin begin to quiver and saw the shadow of four heads peeking around the corner of the entrance to the library.

"You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those things to me." She sobbed, letting him pull her against his warm, comforting chest. His hand cradled her head gently to him and she could feel him rest his cheek against the top of her head. Her hands had gripped the front of his shirt as she allowed herself to bawl into the fabric.

"You haven't given me an answer, Claire." She could hear the smile in his voice, followed by a long sniff. A muffled sob from the doorway told Claire she had been right about her family eavesdropping.

"Say yes!" Esme cried from the hallway, followed by a resounding chorus of shushes. Claire let out a chortle into Gustave's shirt and pulled away, uncaring that she was a blubbering, sentimental mess and that her dear, nosy family was witnessing the entire scene.

"Claire?" Gustave said once more, taking his handkerchief and wiping tenderly beneath her eyes with it.

"Yes." She managed to blurt, smiling wobbly at him. "I'll marry you."

"No taking it back." He warned. "You're stuck with me now until the day I die."

"I never wanted anyone else…" She murmured. "Never since I was ten years old, did I ever love anyone else. I never will."

A small, smile curved his lovely lips as he pulled her into the curve of his arm and hugged her against his side.

"Well, this was certainly easier than I thought." He chuckled. "I had visions of having to relive kissing your feet for weeks."

"The thought had crossed my mind." She giggled, feeling buoyant. "But you were so pathetic in your desperation, that I had to save you the humiliation." Throwing his head back, a rich howl of laughter left his throat at her teasing.

"Well, for that I am truly grateful then." He replied, using his thumb and forefinger to tilt her head up to look at him. Cupping her cheek, he bent to kiss her on the lips adoringly. Claire sighed, closing her eyes and finally letting herself give in to him. She didn't think she would ever stop smiling.

* * *

Charles looked up from his desk in surprise as a small shadow filled the doorway. His father and Tris had already gone and he had decided to work on a factory commission for some sort of machine company. Everything seemed like it was going to be done by machine one day.

"Working hard today, Monsieur Destler?" A thrill ran through him at the sound of his fiancee's voice. With a grin, he stood and walked over to kiss her cheek.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, holding her as he looked down into her lovely face. "I thought you were having lunch with the Dowager?"

"Grandmamma had to leave early because of another engagement with the Baron de Lorche." She explained. Charles raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"Really? Amorous pursuits?" He teased and Emmy smacked his chest with a laugh.

"Good God, I hope not!" She choked. "All she'd do was criticize any move the man made!" Emmy rolled her eyes. "She told me that my hair is overgrown and unseemly for the daughter of a Comte." Emmy explained. "After that she told my mother that she must learn that appearance is everything." Charles cringed.

"Good _Lord,_" He exclaimed, "She sounds awful."

"She's about as sweet as a hedgehog, but we have to tolerate her because she _is_ our Grandmother."

"Yes, but _my_ Grandmother is delightful." Charles observed, thinking of Grandmere Giselle, who was staying with her eldest daughter as of late. She had written at the news of Charles's engagement. Grandmere was great fun and a good sport. Mother and all of his Aunts adored her as did his father. He couldn't imagine having to deal with a hateful shrew like the Dowager Comtess de Chagny. Especially when you were Emmy, who had always been self conscious. His hold on her tightened protectively.

"Are you all right?" He asked, concerned. A lilting giggle left her.

"Oh, yes." She assured him. "Mother and I have learned to brush off Grandmamma. She's never really like Mother, you see…and I look just like her so of course, she is more critical of me. But, you know," Emmy said, biting her lip, "I am proud to look like Mum."

"You should be," Charles agreed. "You're both beautiful." Emmy blushed at this, letting him kiss her quickly.

"We went to Madame Priscilla's this morning for my first fitting for the wedding dress." She added. Charles smiled, thinking of their impending wedding day, a mere few weeks away. With some persuasion, their families had consented to allow them to marry quickly.

"…Gustave was acting so strangely this morning," Emmy was saying, "He was pacing and planning and talking to Dad about something. Mum knew, but they wouldn't tell me what it was all about." Charles bent to press his lips to the side of her neck.

"I can't wait three weeks to marry you." He said, taking in the scent of her skin. "What did you bath in, some kind of special oil?" Emmy frowned, looking at him in confusion.

"Vanilla scented soap, like always…" She replied, "Why, is something the matter?"

"No. It's intoxicating…" He groaned. "Emmeline, I think you'd better leave soon or I won't be able to keep my hands off of you." He saw her eyes grow big, but she didn't move.

"Mum thinks I am shopping with Lillian and Darya." She said quietly. Charles felt his trousers tighten. He pulled her by the wrist further into the study and shut the door behind them, locking it.

"I'll only take a little then, but I've got to have at least this much of you." He said, leaning her against the desk and falling to his knees before her. Dragging up her skirt, he let out an audible moan at the sight of the silk stockings on her legs held up by blue silk garters.

Swiftly, he untied her drawers and pulled them apart, rubbing the tip of one finger against the silken flesh there.

"Ch-Charles!" She gasped, her head falling back. He watched in fascination as dark curls tumbled down her back and touched the cherry wood of his desk. Moving up momentarily, he kissed her lips hungrily and traced the contours of her mouth with his tongue. The breathy sound she was making was muffled against his lips. Quickly, he pulled down the square cut bodice of her day dress and found the tip of one erect nipple, circling it with his tongue. He repeated the gesture with the other before returning to his knees and hoisting one of her legs over his shoulder. He handed Emmy the hem of her dress to hold up.

"Don't take your eyes off of me." He instructed, inserting his finger completely into her opening. Her eyes began to roll back, but he made a sound. "_Watch_, Emmy."

Spreading her, he gave her a dangerous look before flicking his tongue against the small nub concealed within her folds. He kept the pressure of his finger inside her, hardening at the wetness he felt there. Expertly, he manipulated her bud with his tongue, watching in delight as her head tossed back and forth while she struggled to keep her eyes open to watch as he'd instructed. Her hands twined in his dark hair, holding him to her lustily.

He dared to add another finger to his machinations, moving them in such a way to manipulate her sex from the inside as well as his tongue on the outside. A moment later, she tightened around his fingers and cried out his name. He waited until her spasms had subsided to come back up and kiss her. A small flicker of amusement made him chuckle as she tasted herself on him. Gently, he readjusted her underclothes and settled her hem back to the floor before drawing her into a loving embrace.

"Nineteen days…" He breathed into her ear. She nodded, sagging limply in his arms.

"Nineteen days." She echoed weakly, clutching his shirt.

* * *

Tris followed Destler into his house as they returned from lunch with Charles to go over a letter from the overseer of Lady Easton's house in London. The house was bustling with activity as they entered with Madame Destler meeting them almost as soon as they entered the foyer. Monsieur Destler gave his wife a worried look, stopping to give her a quick, lingering kiss. Tris averted his eyes, feeling like an intruder on an intimate moment.

"You two have missed so much in your absence!" She exclaimed, smiling excitedly.

"What are you talking about, Evangeline?" Destler asked, giving her a wary look.

"Another of our children has become engaged." She said, reaching over to squeeze Tris's hand affectionately. "Three of our children…betrothed all in a matter of weeks!" Destler looked slightly taken aback.

"Which one?"

"Claire." Madame Destler explained.

"To whom?" Destler demanded protectively. "I wasn't aware that she was being courted!"

"Neither was I." His wife admitted. "It's Gustave de Chagny."

"_Christine's _boy?" Erik questioned dazedly. "Two of my children are marrying Christine Daae's children?" He rubbed his temples. "Oh dear Lord, if _this_ isn't Fate, tell me what _is, _Keating!" Tris could only stare at his future father-in-law with a strange look on his face.

The two men followed Madame de Chagny into the busy parlor where all four of the present Destler girls were gathered around the Vicomte de Chagny. Tris noted that Claire was wearing two different shoes. A normal day slipper and a jeweled dress slipper. Everything was very odd, but everyone was chattering happily to each other. The sight of Bella cuddling Esme beside her brought the events of the previous evening back to Tris. Just as he'd noticed the first rays of sun coming over the horizon, he'd helped Bella dress and had guided her half asleep to her room, carrying her part of the way when he'd realized she was beyond exhaustion. Before he'd left with Destler that morning, he'd scrawled a quick note and had delivered it personally to her.

Now, he couldn't stop thinking about Bella's body lying ready and open beneath his and the delightful way she curved. Many girls he'd shared a bed with had been narrow and straight while Bella was deliciously round. After seeing her, he had no idea how he'd ever been able to stomach any other woman. And the noises she'd made under his skilled hands and mouth…somehow, he had to suppress his lust for her until they were properly married. They still were chancing the fact that she may be with child already.

Sensing his presence, she turned her head to look at him. Tris noticed the bright pink spots appearing on her pale cheeks and swallowed a grin. Her gingerbread colored eyes settled on him, and she gently settled Esme on the sofa and rose to come to him. He lifted his arms so that she could wrap hers around his middle, since he was much taller than she. His body went taut with arousal.

"Claire finally got her wish." Bella said, looking up at him as he brushed her dark locks away from her face. She smiled, glancing over to where her sister was showing their father her ring. Tris noticed the strained look on Destler's face, as though he were struggling to hold back his emotions. It was obvious to him that Claire Destler and her father shared a special bond. As a Viscountess, Claire would be admired throughout Paris society because of her intelligence and her ethereal beauty. She would command a room.

Tris had never realized how similar Bella and Claire were in their strengths. Though Bella had never known her own appeal, Tris could see the confidence inside her building. She would excel in being a Marchioness, Tris could see now. She had a quiet, dry wit that most people overlooked because of her sweetness and once in a conversation with Bella, one could talk for hours comfortably and never lack for conversation. This was a key trait for success in London society. A hostess had to know how to command a room and keep the flow of things. Tris could not believe how he hadn't thought about it before.

"Will you walk with me, outside?" Bella asked, taking his hand. He nodded, smiling at Claire, who still looked a bit awestruck. Her eyes were glazed with tears still, but she looked completely content even as she hugged her father. Tris let Bella lead him out onto the back terrace.

"Did you put me back into bed this morning?" She asked sheepishly after a moment. Tris grinned, sitting on a chair and pulling her into his lap. Bella put an arm around him and toyed with his hair, which was much too long for his own liking.

"I did." He affirmed, tracing the design on her bodice. Her chocolate brown hair was let down, hanging lusciously over her shoulders and giving off a sweet flowery scent. "You were awake, but I saw you waver just before your door, so I had to carry you."

"I can't wait until I can wake up in the same bed as you." She mused, but then looked slightly alarmed. "You're not going to sleep in a separate room when we return to London, are you?"

"Why would you even think that?" Tris asked, a bit put out. "I can't even stand when you're not beside me during the day…how could I spend a night without you?"

"Many married couples keep separate bedrooms…" She pointed out. Tris scoffed, holding her tighter.

"Not the Coolidges." He assured her. "We share a bed, show affection in public and I even insist on being present when our children are born." Bella let out a small, blissful laugh, resting her forehead against his. They stayed that way for a long while, enjoying the calm, summer breeze.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the young couple, not so far away, someone watched the two of them, hearing their every word. The girl was in the way and something had to be done about the match between the Marquis and the young, French girl.

A plan was hatching in the watcher's mind, even as measures had already been taken to ensure the success of it. After the girl was gone, the Marquis could finally return to his duties and everything would be as it should be once again with the Marchioness in her proper place at Keating Manor.

* * *

**Still a little bit to go...but it's getting there!!!! **


	22. No Ransom

Emmy looked up at the sound of her brother's return. She could hear him talking with her parents momentarily, followed by the sound of her mother's cry of delight. Curiosity got the better of her as she abandoned her mending and left her room. Looking down on the trio of her family from the second floor, she saw her mother holding Gustave in a happy embrace while their father looked proudly on.

"What's going on?" She asked, interrupting the moment as she descended the winding staircase. Her mother let go of Gustave and beamed at her.

"All of my children will be married by the end of the year!" Christine exclaimed, moving toward Emmy and taking her hand. "Gustave proposed to Claire!" A trill of sheer happiness swirled inside Emmy as she looked up at her older brother incredulously.

"You did?" She asked, "She said yes?" He nodded, unable to remove the ecstatic smile from his handsome, boyish face. "How did you do it?" Straightening his jacket proudly, he shrugged.

"Sheer, dumb luck, Sis." He chuckled. "It so happened the night of our musicale she dropped her shoe here and I improvised. I brought it back to her and slipped the ring I bought her inside of it. She felt it, and I proposed and she melted at my feet."

Giving her brother a look of irritation, he grinned rakishly at her. "Sheer, dumb luck." He repeated. "Somehow, I finally convinced her."

"Any idiot could have seen she's been in love with you since she was still in pinafores." Emmy pointed out, smiling at the look of surprise on her mother's face.

"She has?" Christine asked. "Well, why didn't you ask her sooner?"

"Mum," Gustave shook his head with a short laugh, "I didn't know until she returned from her grand tour that she even knew my name! But when I saw her again for the first time in over a year…she wasn't just Madeleine Destler's gawkish little sister. She was Claire Destler…and I couldn't believe I'd never realized she was there."

"That's quite how it was with your mother and me." Their father interjected fondly, giving their mother a wicked smile. "I hadn't seen her in nine years since we'd been children together. Her father used to tell us stories, you see…and we had always been good friends. But we lost touch after your grandfather Gustave passed." He added. Emmy saw a hint of sadness in her mother's warm, brown eyes at the thought of her beloved father. "Nine years later, when I had become the Vicomte and decided to be a patron of the Opera, I met her again. I saw her sing…and she'd changed too. She'd grown up. And I knew I was supposed to be with her forever."

"Raoul." Mum said, blushing in embarrassment. Their father laughed, crossing to her and pulling her close. Raising an eyebrow, she added, "Actually, he visited the dress rehearsal and didn't notice me gaping at him, salivating like a school girl."

"No, my darling, you are mistaken." Raoul said good naturedly. "I simply couldn't see over Carlotta's headdress."

The two of them laughed heartily at this, grinning at each other like children again. It warmed Emmy to see how much they still loved each other.

"Every woman in the theater wanted to make you notice her." Christine mused, "I doubt you would have ever seen me if I hadn't been given the part of Elissa for that one night."

"I would have." Their father insisted. "I would have known you anywhere, Christine. I searched for you for nearly a decade."

Emmy had to avert her eyes as her parents kissed, and decided to follow Gustave out of the room to give them a moment of privacy.

* * *

Erik slept fretfully that night, tossing and turning as he flitted in and out of nightmares. They were an undeterminable mess of people he knew, nameless faces, and violent images. One of them had him walking through the streets with all six of his children, and one by one they were disappearing out of his hands.

Another, had him coming home to find Evangeline in bed with another man, and third, final and worst nightmare, had him finding Evie dead on the floor. Murdered by an intruder. His eyes shot open as he gasped, looking to his left to make sure that Evangeline was still there. She was, as he remembered, sleeping peacefully on her side facing toward him. His eyes drifted to her modest nightgown, tied at the bodice with a blue, satin ribbon. Her auburn tresses were spread like soft silk over her shoulder, barely containing any gray. Her eye lashes were a long fan over creamy ivory of her slightly freckled cheek. To him, she still looked like the twenty-four year old novelist from Le Havre that he'd meet so long before.

The first image he'd ever had of her came to him. She'd been wearing a green ball gown and her rust colored hair had been pinned at the crown of her head. Evangeline Lambourne had carried herself like a girl who was unsure of where she belonged, but knew what she wanted.

He ran a caress down the curve of her side, making her eyes flutter open. Erik saw her brows furrow in worry as she noticed he was awake.

"Are you well?" She asked, reaching out to caress the scarred side of his face. He loved that she cared nothing for his deformity.

"I need you." He said softly in the darkness, pulling her to him and raking up the cotton hem of her night clothes. With a note of satisfaction, he realized she was naked underneath her gown and used his finger to ready her for him. Arching, she cried out in wonder, spreading for him. Hastily, he removed his own clothing and hers and settled between her legs, entering her in one swift thrust.

Erik twined his fingers with Evangeline's, nipping at her skin as he thrust into her welcoming body. Her cries of ecstasy mingled with his breathing sighs as he whispered her name over and over, a primal growl escaping him as she tightened. He spilled into her and rolled to her side, holding her facing away from him. They slept that way for the remainder of the night, with their hands interweaved.

Daylight was spilling into the room when Erik jolted awake at the sound of a female scream. Both he and Evie sat up in the bed and began to pull on clothes without thinking about anything but their children. Nearly ripping the door off of its hinges, Erik sprinted down the hallway toward the other side of the house, where he saw one of his daughters' bedroom doors hanging open.

_Bella._

Rounding the corner, he found Julienne standing there, looking down at Isabella's empty bed. Her blue eyes met his as her bottom lip trembled and she held out her hand. In it, was a piece of paper.

"I came to s-see if she would read over my story and I f-found this…" Julienne sobbed, hiccupping. Evie went to their daughter and pulled the girl into an embrace as she looked back at Erik in panic.

"What does it say, Erik?" She asked, comforting the girl.

_The girl is safe. _

_For now. _

Looking around the room, Erik noticed a broken vase and the flowers it once contain scattered over the floor. A small patch of fabric lay on the bedcovers. He picked it up and sniffed it, wincing at the familiar smell. Laudanum. Erik had once been addicted to morphine and the medicine scent still prickled the hairs on his neck. Bella had been drugged and kidnapped.

"What's happened?" Claire appeared at the doorway along with Tris. Erik swallowed and handed his wife the note. Evie let out a small shriek.

"Bella's been taken." He said, feeling a surge of urgency in his veins. Meeting Tris's eyes, he produced the medicine soaked rag that had drugged his child. "Laudanum. She's unconscious, wherever she is." Tris stepped into the room.

"We should call the authorities…we have to—"

"Damn the authorities." Erik scoffed. "I'll find her before they ever will."

"Sir!" Jean cried apologetically running into the room. "There is a woman downstairs who insists on seeing the Marquis."

"Who is it?" Tris asked impatiently and the man swallowed.

"Your mother." Erik saw the rage in the boy's eyes and stopped him.

"No, Tris." He warned. "It's highly likely that your mother had this arranged." He said, "You don't want to anger her." Tris nodded, understanding as he disappeared from the doorway. Erik walked to the top of the staircase to listen to the conversation.

"…I don't know what you're bloody talking about, Tristan!" The woman insisted. "I only came to France to apologize and the instant I arrive to humble myself, you fling accusations at me!"

"Forgive me, _Mother_." Tris spat, "But I don't believe you. Not after the letter incident."

"I already _told _you, I didn't do that!"

"It was in your drawer!" He exploded, angered. With a dismissive wave, he stormed away from her.

"Monsieur le Marquis…" Jean said quietly, coming inside with Luc, the driver. "There are strange wheel prints in the dirt. I found this outside." He produced a slip of paper. Erik brushed past Tris, to take it. It was a receipt, faded and ruined from falling into the mud the night before. What little he could read of it said,

_Mil n, Ital_

"He's taking her to Italy." Erik said, looking at Luc. "We have to go to the train station."

"That slip could be from anything, Sir." Luc replied cautiously, but the look on Erik's face told the driver that he was not to be questioned.

"I know what it's from." He replied sharply. "Ready the carriage. Tris, you are coming with me." The younger man nodded, looking desperate. Evangeline appeared at the door with Julienne. "Evangeline," Erik said, moving to her. "I want you to take _extra _special care of Lady Keating." He commanded, glancing at the woman, who might have been lovely once, but was now a bitter shell of an unhappy woman. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "Don't let her out of your sight, love. Jean!" He called, turning to their butler. "Send for the Daroga and his nephew to come look after the ladies."

"Daroga?" The Marchioness asked in confusion.

"A friend from Persia." Erik answered without even sparing her a glance.

"_Persians_?" She exclaimed in disgust. Tris rolled his eyes.

"Quiet, you!" He snapped, giving his mother a scathing glance. Erik left them arguing with each other to go and dress properly and quickly, abandoning a cravat. He managed to pull on a coat, but that was it. He wondered where in his panic he'd remembered to put his mask on, but there it sat on his face. Not that he cared at this moment. Right now, he was so angry, he was ready to storm through Paris with his face completely exposed if it helped intimidate people in to giving him answers about his girl's whereabouts.

It was Bella, which was even worse. His sweet, innocent lamb. She'd never harmed anyone. Even though she was terrified to death of spiders, she refused to put one to death at her expense. It was a quality that he was sure she hadn't inherited from him. Every minute wasted was a minute too long. He rushed back down and kissed Evangeline on the lips.

"You'll find her." Evie said in a quiet, voice. It wasn't a reassuring voice, it was a pleading voice. Drawing her close, he nodded.

"Oh, I'll find her." He promised, pulling Julienne and Claire into an embrace. "Take care of your mother." He said, kissing each of their temples. Claire gave him a teary nod as Julienne began to sob. Erik reached out and touched her wet cheek. "There now, sweeting." He comforted. "We'll get her back." At a small tug on the tails of his coat, he looked down and saw his youngest peering up at him with her big, blue eyes. Crouching to her level, he gave her braid a gentle pull. "I'll return soon, angel." He said and she nodded, clinging to Evangeline's side.

"Will you tell her I am very angry with her for disappearing without telling me?" Esme asked, biting her quivering lower lip. Erik's heart broke for her, but he nodded.

"I shall tell her you were very upset." He said, glad she didn't know the full circumstances of the situation. Evie pulled her close, stroking her coppery locks. Taking one more look at his girls, he and Tris rushed out the door, nearly colliding with Charles.

"What is going on…?" Charles began, seeing the people strewn about. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the Marchioness in the doorway.

"Come on," Erik said, pulling his son by the arm. "You can help. Bella's been kidnapped."

"What?" Charles looked at the two of them in horror, climbing into the carriage after them.

"We'll tell you everything on the way to the train station." Erik said, shutting the door behind them.

Tris was sick to his stomach. Upon finding his fiancée gone, his mother had arrived and everything had descended into madness. The cunning liar his mother was had actually had the nerve to deny being involved in Bella's disappearance. And though Destler was sure she was being taken to Italy, it was a long shot. All there had been in the mud, faded and mucked up so badly it was practically unreadable was a slip that seemed to say _Milan, Italy._

The Gare d'Austerlitz train station was practically deserted that morning, with a few people milling about. One thing was certain, whoever had taken Bella, was long gone with her now. The thought of never seeing her again…

What if she was killed?

It happened all the time. Young girls taken from their bed, used for the sick pleasures of men…what if she'd been sold to the black market?

Now his mind was running away with him. Destler practically tore the door off the hinges of the carriage as he bolted out of the car and walked to the ticket window. He was grilling the seller for information, but the man looked completely lost.

"I just started my shift. I haven't seen anyone…"

"Listen to _me,_ boy." Destler growled, making the young man's face go white. "My daughter's life is at stake here—"

"I was here this morning." Another employee said, walking by. Tris felt a spark of hope fill his heart. "Saw a girl out of her wits with an older looking fellow. Said she was his daughter and she was ill…they bought tickets to Milan."

"Was she small, with dark hair and brown eyes?" Destler asked, abandoning the boy in the ticket window.

"She was small with dark hair, but I couldn't tell what her eyes looked like." The man said, "She looked half dead. Why a man would be making a poor, sick girl across the continent on a train is beyond me, but—"

"What did the man look like?" Charles inquired, but Destler shook his head.

"No time for that." He said quickly. "We need three tickets to Milan."

"We don't have one going to Milan, that one left earlier," The ticket boy said, "But there is a train going to the Saint-Charles station in Marseilles—"

"We'll take it." Destler said curtly, pulling out his wallet.

* * *

Roger Tiernay had always known he was different from other people. Being half Persian, one tended to look at you in a crowd. His skin was a light amber color and he had hazel eyes with flecks of green and gold in them. His hair was a thick mass of long, dark locks. His mother, Leila, had been the sister of the Daroga and had met a traveling Irish artist and had fallen in love with him. They'd eloped against the wishes of her brother and family. The rest of the family had disowned her, while Nadir, though uncertain, was always supportive of her.

His father's name had been Roger as well, and he had been killed before the birth of his son. Devastated, Leila returned to Nadir for the remainder of her pregnancy and had died in childbirth. His uncle had raised him from the time of his birth, and he couldn't think of a better man, but he had always felt like a burden on his uncle's shoulders.

Since his uncle was so close with Monsieur Destler, Roger had been very good friends with all of his children. Most particularly Bella, who was one year his senior and Claire, who had been quite fun when they had been children. The two of them were always exploring and causing mischief together.

When little Esme was born, Roger remembered something he'd heard once. A fortune teller back in Persia had said to him,

"Young man, one day you will love a girl with hair like the rising sun." At the time, he hadn't known what that mean, but when he saw the copper haired infant for the first time, he'd likened the color of her hair to the sunrise. Since then, he'd always felt a strong connection to the little girl and the need to protect her. Not that he thought about marrying Esme, she was only ten! But perhaps the fortune teller's message meant that she would be very dear in his life.

His uncle came into the living area of their rented town house with a grim look on his face and said, "We must go to the Destlers' home." Nodding, Roger stood.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"One of the girls has gone missing." The Daroga explained. "Isabella."

Roger's heart sank at the thought of Bella being hurt. Once, very briefly, when he'd been a mere boy of fourteen and her a girl of fifteen, he had fancied her. Very gently and kindly, she told him that they were simply too young to dwell on such things and that one day, he would be such a striking man, that he would forget all about a plain girl like her. It had irked Roger, hearing Bella call herself plain, because to him at the time, she was the definition of beauty. Of course then, she had been small and lanky with tangled brown hair and a smile that was too wide for her slim face, but to him, she'd looked like Venus. Inevitably, he had grown out of his crush and the two were still very close chums. She was an extremely loyal friend and an intent listener.

The Destlers' house was in an uproar when Roger and Nadir arrived. A flurry of people, children, and even a pet or two moved about as if no one knew what to do or where to go. Roger recognized a girl with strawberry blonde hair, who he knew to be Amelia Haverston, the Destlers' cousin. Beside her was Madeleine holding her daughter, who was fussing. Two small children hung near Amelia's side as she patiently attended them. Claire was nowhere to be seen, but Julienne was a complete wreck and poor little Esme was trying to comfort her. He swallowed a small smile at the little girl wiping her seventeen year old sister's eyes tenderly with a handkerchief. At the sight of him, Julienne stood and raced across the room to fling herself into his arms.

"Tell me what happened." He said softly, cradling the girl to his chest. She blurted some sort of explanation, but it was unintelligible. Esme joined her sister's side and sighed up at him, looking up at Roger with blue eyes far too wise for a ten year old.

"She's scared for Bella because she was kidnapped from her bed." Drawing down to a whisper, Esme added, "Julienne was the one who discovered she was missing."

"Thank you, Esme." Roger smiled down at the child, trying to hide his fear for Bella as he comforted Julienne. "It's going to be just fine, love." He said to the girl. "Bella is a strong girl. Much stronger than you know."

"Bu' wha' if 'e 'urts 'er?!" Jules sobbed, and Roger translated that into, 'But what if he hurts her?'

"What did the note say?" Roger asked and Julienne tried to compose herself long enough to recite it. Taking the handkerchief he offered her, she blew her nose first.

"The girl is safe for now."

"Was there a ransom demanded?" He queried. She shook her head.

"He won't hurt her." Roger insisted confidently.

"How do you know?" Esme asked, interested. He patted her cheek.

"Because, little one, if he had taken her to hurt her, he wouldn't have left a note. And he didn't ask for a ransom, so my only conclusion is that he simply needed to take her somewhere to have her out of the way."

"But _why_?" Julienne asked, horrified.

"She's engaged to Tris." Roger said. "He's a titled peer, sweetheart. People have killed for the crown. Everyone wants to have a title."

"Do you think it was his mother?" Julienne asked quietly, glancing over at the Marchioness, who was seated uncomfortably beside her mother.

"I don't." Esme announced. "I heard her talking with Tris this morning, and she was wringing her hands."

"So?" Julienne said impatiently.

"I've noticed that she only wrings her hand when she is truly upset. If she didn't care about Bella, she would have stood there and denied it coldly, but her voice rises when she is being sincere. And her voice was definitely shrill."

Roger stared down at the perceptive child with a mixture of delight and amusement.

"Have you considered a career in law enforcement, Esme Marie?" He asked. She shrugged, smiling at him. He couldn't help thinking that one day, she was going to be stunning.

"I just saw what I saw." She turned away and flounced back toward her mother.

"She's a child." Julienne scoffed. "She doesn't see."

"They say that no one can see the world quite as accurately as a child." Roger replied pleasantly. Putting his arm around Julienne, he guided her out toward the terrace. "Come on, love. You could use some fresh air."

* * *

"Gustave!" His mother's voice rang through the house urgently. Setting aside his violin, he stood and straightened his cravat, leaving the music room. He was met by the grim faces of his parents and sister.

"What's the matter?"

"One of the Destler girls has been kidnapped." Raoul said quietly as Gustave's knees nearly buckled beneath him. Claire…oh no. The thought of losing her just when he'd finally got her made him sick. Made him want to heave. And then, rage coursed through him, wanting to rip her attacker limb from limb.

"Claire…is it Claire?" He gasped and his mother looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

"We don't know anything for sure." Christine said gently. "Your father was in town and heard talk. Everyone has a different story, naturally."

"All I got out of it, was that Erik had been asking around the train station if they had seen a girl with dark hair. And that Charles, Erik and Tris had left on a train to Marseilles."

"Well that leaves out Esme." Emmy said weakly. Gustave felt the room spin. If Claire was gone, he had no idea how he would go on without her. He couldn't even bring himself to think the worst. Of course, there were two other possibilities, but the only one he was really concerned about right now, was Claire.

"We have to go." He said, looking pleadingly at his father. "We have to go over there. I have to see for myself, I—"

"Slow down, son." Raoul said, patting his back. "We'll go. Your mother wants to go for Evangeline anyway."

"And I want to go because they will be my family soon too." Emmy added, taking her brother's arm. Gustave followed his family out to the carriage.

The entire ride seemed to take ages, the thud of Gustave's pulse in his ear the only thing her could hear outside his own thoughts. Raw panic tore at his insides as they neared the Destlers' house just outside town.

"Oh come _on,_ Martin! You can drive faster than that!" He growled.

"Easy, love." Christine soothed, taking her son's hand. Gustave buried his face in his other hand, swallowing the lump in his throat.

The moment the carriage jerked to a halt in front of the grand house, Gustave bolted through it, barely noticing that the front door was open. Rounding the corner where everyone was gathered, he began looking through the scores of women that were there. It didn't help that all of their cousins were present as well. He saw Julienne in the corner with Roger Tiernay, and little Esme was sitting on the floor. No sight of Claire, however.

Madame Destler looked up at him with pitying eyes as she came to meet him.

"Gustave, you came…you should take some tea, love." She said, sounding entirely like his mother, who had come in behind him. "You look terrible."

"Claire." He managed to say. "Where is Claire?" Confusion came into the woman's eyes as she looked past him.

"I'm right here." Claire's voice said behind him. Whirling about, he forgot all about Madame Destler and saw Claire standing there beside Emmy. Though she looked pale and unkempt, she was _there_, and she was healthy. He lunged forward, letting her draw him into her arms. Tears came, unbidden into his eyes as he buried his face into her ebony hair. Her tiny hands made soothing circles on his back.

"I thought it was _you_." He told her, his voice breaking on the last word. A sob wretched from his chest. "I thought it was you."

"I'm here." She assured him. Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "Shh…"

"I love you." He sighed into her silky hair. "I love you, so much." Pulling back momentarily, he dared to kiss her full on the lips in the crowded room. Thankfully, everyone was so busy worrying, only a few people noticed as he practically ravished her in public. When he was finally able to force himself away from her, she gave him a wobbly smile.

"It's Bella." She said, her voice cracking as she sniffled. "Bella was taken."

And then, it was she who fell against him to cry. He held her tightly, intending to never let go.

"I'm sorry, love." He said honestly. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

**I had fun with this chapter. I have to admit. It may not be the best one, but it's going to be quite a trip the next few chapters!**

**  
Hope you enjoy it.  
**


	23. Feet First and Fighting

Bella was dreaming, she was sure of it. She felt like she were floating through the waves on the sea, but it was dark. Every motion was fluid and when she moved her hand in front of her face, it seemed like she were moving it through water. Vaguely, she could hear a muffled voice speaking to her as if through a very thick door. Slowly, slowly, she forced herself to swim upward out of her dream and willed herself to open her eyes. It hurt, as heavy as they felt, and her eyes began to water at the bright light. A tingling numbness ran through her arms as she realized that they were tied above her head to the headboard of the bed she was lying on.

Distant memories of the previous night came back to her as she had heard someone in the room and thought it was Tris. Sitting up in the bed, she had found out instantly it was not him as the man standing there was obviously not her fiance. Before she could scream, he had grabbed under her chin and forced a spoon containing some sickly sweet liquid into her mouth and held a cloth over it, giving her no choice but to swallow. For a moment, she saw his face before falling into oblivion.

A small groan left her, drawing his attention. Squinting, she craned her neck to get a better look at him, but did not recognize him. He was an older man, in his fifties perhaps, with thinning pale hair and a drawn face. Fear filled her as she wondered why he had taken her, or who he was. He turned to her and smiled, coming closer and bringing a tray of food with him. She could not say anything, however, because she was gagged. Her body seemed to be unable to move of her own free will.

"Good morning, Miss Destler." He said in a pleasant sounding voice that sent a chill through her body. "I took the liberty of having breakfast sent up for you. I hope you like eggs and sausage." Pulling a stool closer to the bed, he sat beside her and gently removed the gag from her mouth. Too frightened to speak, she watched as he put some food on a fork and moved to feed her. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

"No thank you." She whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Now, now Miss, you have to eat." He said in a very British sounding English. "Don't make me open your mouth for you." Hesitantly, she opened her mouth and let him put the food into her mouth, trying to remember how to chew her food. This went on for several minutes until most of it was gone, as well as the juice.

"Why have you done this?" She asked quietly, eyeing him. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me, Miss." He said, bowing slightly. "My name is Frederic. I am Lord Keating's butler."

Bemused, she watched him take the tray calmly to the table across the room and come back to sit beside her again. Biting her lip, she waited for him to tell her more, but all he did was smile at her.

"Did Lady Keating ask you to kidnap me?" She whispered and he frowned.

"Of course not." He assured her gently. "I did it all on my own."

"But, why?" Her voice cracked as tears sprung into her eyes.

"No, no…don't cry." He said with a slight sigh. "I can't take it when ladies cry! But you see, my Lady, my Cordelia was so very distraught at the thought of her son marrying you, that I could not bear the thought of her discontent, so I took it upon myself. You see," He said, frightening Bella to her very center, "We are in love, the Marchioness and myself. I would do anything for her. I would die for her…"

"Are you going to k-kill me?" Bella asked with a sob. Frederic looked mortified.

"No! No of course not, my dear!" He assured her. "I just had to get you out of the way until Lord Keating comes to his senses!" The way he was smiling casually at her was very frightening, and Bella could see he was an unsettled person.

"We began our love affair just before the Marquis died a few months ago." He went on dreamily, "It was completely grand, until we returned to London and the Marchioness began to spend time with the Duke of Halstead. I suspected her interests were wavering…and then, the new Marquis announced his engagement to you and she was furious! She went into a rage, crying, moaning." Smiling fondly, he met Bella's eyes. "Cordelia is very used to having her own way." He replied as if that were ample explanation. "She insisted on seeing Halstead, and railed at me when I asked her if she still loved me. 'You stupid man!' She had cried, 'There is nothing between us!' I told her all I wanted was to make her happy and she replied that the only thing that would make her happy was to have her son marry a woman of her choosing. You were in the way, dear."

Bella felt tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes, hurting.

"But he came back for me." She sobbed. "He banished her."

"Which is why I had to get rid of you." Frederic answered softly, "I had to make sure you weren't there to hurt Cordelia ever again. So I came up with this plan, all on my own and when you left London, I told the Marquis I would mail his letter to you, but I wrote a new one and sent that one instead. When I went to show the Marchioness what I'd done for her, she was not in her parlor…and a maid came in, so I shoved the original into the back of her drawer in a panic. I found out she was with Halstead again and forgot I'd left the letter there. The Marquis found it and immediately assumed it was his mother's doing. He banned her from the estate, sending her into the country. I realized further measures had to be taken. He was smarter than I thought, so after he'd gone to Paris for you, I followed and arranged for a man to meet us in Milan to take you to America with him as his daughter's maid."

"Monsieur!" She cried angrily, "You can't sell me off! My father will find us, he'll be angry--"

"No doubt your father will be upset. But by the time they figure out anything, you will be long gone and no longer a threat to my Lady or to the Marquis's future." Frederic smiled again, and the calm look in his eyes was more chilling than any maniac.

"I'll find my way back." She spat, trying to sit up, but she was unable since she was bound down.

"Perhaps." He allowed, "Of course, by that time, Lord Keating will no doubt have married. Don't you see, Miss? This is all for the best."

"Tris doesn't want this." Bella insisted, praying someone would come to the door. A maid, perhaps?

"What the Marquis wants and needs are different things." Frederic said. "It is obvious he knows nothing of what he needs." Checking his watch, he frowned. "I must leave you here for a bit, my dear. Your new employer is meeting with me to finalize details on your departure. I have told him your name is Bess Wilkes. Do try to get some rest." He added jovially and left the hotel room, whistling.

Terror set into the pit of Bella's stomach as she fought back more tears.

"Think Bella, _think_." She whispered to herself. "What did Dad always tell you?"

"_Now children, if you are every in a situation where you need to escape, you must follow these instructions exactly…One, do not panic. Panic will only hinder your strategy. Two, assess your resources…"_

Bella glanced around the room, looking for something to untie the sheet binding her hands. Finding nothing, she hoisted herself upward, using her feet to hold up her body as she arched her back and held her head upside down and began to tear at the tied sheet with her teeth. Blood rushed to her head and she fell back down with a grunt.

"_Do not despair if you don't succeed straight away. Perseverance is key…_

Repeating the same gesture, she was able to get her teeth under the edge of the knot and draw it upward. She fell back down again to catch her breath. Each time she did this, she was able to loosen the knot until it was easy for her to turn her wrists and untie the sheet completely. Triumphant, she hopped off the bed, nearly falling to her knees with the after effects of the drugs he'd given her.

The room began to spin as her feet almost slipped out from under her. She was still woozy, but using her hands, she felt her way to the door and opened it easily.

_Once you have accomplished escaping, get as far away as possible and find help. _

Scrambling down the staircase of the hotel in nothing but her modest nightgown and bare feet, she stumbled into the library, stopping momentarily so that the room would stop spinning. People were staring at her with her long messy braid and wrinkled bed clothes.

"Please," She gasped, approaching the concierge. "The man who brought me here is holding me captive! He kidnapped me from my home!"

"You are Signor Wilkes's daughter." The man said in Italian.

"No!" She said desperately. "It is a lie! My name is Isabella Destler! I was kidnapped from my home."

"He said you might be out of your head, poor dear." The man replied sympathetically. "Come, just let me take you back to your room, Signora…"

"_No!"_ She pushed at him as he tried to guide her back up the stairs. "Listen to me! I am a victim! My parents are probably worried about me." He began to lift her to force her back up the stairs.

"The girl is very ill…" He explained to onlookers.

_When all else fails, defend yourself with every ounce of your strength. Never go down without a fight…_

Using the heel of her hand, she brought it upward, smashing it into the man's rather large nose. He reeled backward as she pushed away from him and ran through the crowd to the front door of the hotel and out into the street.

* * *

"This is hopeless." Charles said quietly as they finally arrived in Milan from Marseilles around noon the following day. He looked around the crowded streets with an assessing glance. "It's like a needle in a haystack."

"We'll find her." Tris said quietly, swallowing his desperation. "We have to."

"Tris is right Charles." Destler agreed. "Remember what I taught you. Hope is not lost until--"

"Until there is no more hope." Charles finished for him, nodding. "Yes, but Bella is so small and--"

"A very strong girl." Destler added. "She knows what to do. I have faith in her. Come on," He said, starting toward the first hotel he saw. "Time to find our girl."

They walked into the empty lobby of the small hotel and found a very large man and woman arguing in Italian. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Tris might have found it amused as the large woman hit the markedly smaller man in the back of the head.

"Ciao." Destler said, interrupting. "Sto cercando la mia figlia." _I am looking for my daughter. _He pulled from the inside of his jacket a miniature of her. "Qui è una fotografia di lei." _Here is a photograph of her. "_La avete veduta?" _Have you seen her?_

"Non posso dire che abbiamo. Perla, avete veduto una ragazza che assomiglia a questa?"

_I can not say we have. Perla, have you seen a girl who looks like this?_

"No, sono spiacente." Perla replied regretfully. _No, I'm sorry. _

They tried four more hotels and nearly fifteen stores with similar outcomes and had come to a roadside vendor, who was selling hot food. Tris had begun to lose hope, praying they hadn't been wrong about that faded slip in the mud.

"Avete veduto questa ragazza?"

"Osserva un familiare della punta --" The man began, as Tris was distracted by a commotion across the street. A crowd was gathered in front of the fifth and final hotel in this area as a young woman burst through them into the middle of the street wearing a ragged looking night gown. Her dark hair was a mass of tangles and the remains of a plait were nearly unraveled completely.

"Charles," He said quietly as Destler conferred with the vendor still. His friend turned to him with questioning green eyes. "That girl…" He said, pointing to her. "Do you think that could be--?" The girl turned her face then, confirming to them that it was indeed Bella. She was unsteady on her feet and seemed slightly unaware of her surroundings.

"Bella." Charles said, reaching for his father. "Dad!" Destler turned to look at the girl and his eyes widened in sick relief.

"Oh good girl!" He cried. "Bella!" She looked toward his voice, swaying on the spot. The sound of horse hooves on the ground heightened Tris's senses. He looked to the side and noticed a horse had broken free of a carriage and was charging straight for his fiancee. Unthinking, Tris sped toward her as the world around them seemed to melt away. His hands reached outward as he had a vague sense of the horse's proximity to him and to her. He caught hold of her waist and dove with her, pushing them roughly to the ground and out of the way just in time as the animal clamored past in a rage. Destler and Charles were at their side in a moment. Bella stared up at him with glazed, teary eyes.

"Drugs…world spinning…" She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. A sharp pain was piercing Tris's leg, but he ignored it, checking Bella for injuries. She seemed fine, but her lip was quivering. He lifted himself off of her, unable to stand on his left leg. Charles came to his side and held him up, throwing his arm across his shoulders. Destler bent to gather his daughter into his arms.

"Shh…" He cooed to her, holding her as if she were nothing but an infant again. "Papa is here, _mon ange._"

"Papa…" Her voice was weak like a child's as she rested her head against his shoulder. Tris looked past them, seeing someone step through the crowd and instantly recognized him.

"_Frederic?_" He cried. Panic came into the old butler's eyes as he turned and began to run.

"Oh no you don't." Tris said, forgetting the pain in his leg as he found new strength to pursue the man he had trusted. Charles was close behind him, realizing who they needed to catch. Tris watched as Frederic stumbled on an uneven patch of concrete and stumbled. Diving, he pounced on the butler and the two rolled. Weaker, Frederic was unable to overcome Tris's much larger frame and was pinned down. Charles skidded to a halt and held the man down by the shoulders.

"What is going on here?" Tris demanded, glaring at the servant. Frederic's eyes were wide with fear as the story began to tumble out of him. About how Frederic was in love with his mother and how she had lost interest in their affair for Halstead's affections…he revealed everything about the letter and the kidnapping…and the plans he'd had to send Bella to America as Bess Wilkes. Fury began to spread through him at the confession along with a small twinge of guilt. The Marchioness had been truthful in saying she was uninvolved all along. Not that she was guiltless, she still was very much against his marrying Bella, but it was somewhat comforting to Tris to know that she wasn't behind it. Though she didn't agree, perhaps someday she would learn to accept his decision to marry the woman he loved. Still her idiotic affair with their butler irritated him, but he decided to overlook it for the time being since Bella had been found.

Charles kept hold of the slight man as Tris limped beside them back to where Destler was still cradling Bella and explaining to the concierge of the hotel what had happened. The flustered man, whose nose appeared to have been broken was apologizing profusely to Bella. A small, kind smile was on Bella's face as she assured him there were no hard feelings between them. Tris grinned despite himself, shaking his head at her unwavering sweetness. Her tired eyes met his, and Tris knew in his heart that their troubles were over.

* * *

Hours later, Bella opened her eyes again, settled into a suite at the finest hotel in Milan. Her father was perched on the edge of the bed beside her, tenderly pushing her tangled hair off of her forehead.

"Dad?" She said softly. He nodded, smiling down at her.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He asked. She noticed how tired he looked, but he seemed happy.

"Tired." Bella admitted, "But I don't feel sick anymore." A breath of relief left her as she remembered the nausea from the large dose of laudanum that she'd been given. He nodded.

"You've been asleep for twelve hours." He told her, running a hand through his hair. "I telegraphed your mother to tell her we found you."

"She's probably just worried sick." Bella cringed, thinking of her family waiting at home for news of her whereabouts.

"She was. It was the worst feeling I've ever felt…waking up with one of my children missing. It was Julie's screaming that woke us." Erik said quietly.

"Oh no…" Bella felt her chin quiver, thinking of poor Julienne, who had never dealt with anything beyond losing a pet. "And Maman?"

"She tried to hide it, but I could tell she was devastated." His eyes darkened. "Bella, the thought of you being taken from us. It is sickening." She watched him sigh raggedly while he rubbed his eyes for a moment and she reached out for his hand. "Bella," He said, his voice breaking slightly in a way she had never heard, "Your sisters told me something recently that upset me." Bella had never seen her father cry. It was almost frightening, the man who had been a pillar of strength for her entire life was on the verge of tears.

"What?" She asked.

"They told me you think you're plain." Erik said quietly, drawing in a long breath. "Is this true?"

Bella's eyes blurred with her own hot tears as she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

"Oh. That." She said. "Well, all I know is how people look at me. They see Maddie, and Claire and Julienne and then they see me…clumsy and unexceptional. Nothing about me stands out--"

"How can you _think_ that, Bella?" Erik cried. "You look almost precisely like your grandmother Madeleine, you know, who was boasted as one of the greatest beauties in Rouen. She was a hateful woman, but plain she was not!"

"It's just," Bella inhaled, "Madeleine has that auburn hair…Maman's hair…Claire is so beautiful…and strong, Julienne is not only lovely, but she is probably the smartest girl I've ever met and Esme…have you ever seen a more talented child?" Erik smiled fondly, obviously thinking of his children's various charms.

"Let me tell you a story, Isabella Rose." He said, moving to sit up beside her with his arm around her. "The day your mother gave birth to you, it was raining all day. It had been raining for a week straight with gray clouds and it was dreary. Your mother had so been hoping for the sun to come out before you came, but alas, her water broke on a wet morning in April. She was in labor for hours with you, which was different than how it had been with Charles and with Madeleine…we soon found out why…you were upside down, my girl." Erik swallowed at the memory and Bella tilted her head, confused.

"Upside down?"

"Your feet were coming first," He explained, "And not only that, but, because you were backward, your cord had become wrapped around your little head. The doctor told us that it did not look good for you…" He sniffed, and Bella was afraid to look up at him. "He said it would be a miracle if you had not suffocated. Your mother was determined that you would live…somehow, the doctor reached in and drew you out. He quickly unwrapped your cord, but you were a little bit blue for a baby. I had begun to feel the first twinge of despair and your mother was beyond hysterical. Sadly, the doctor placed you in my arms and cut the cord. I didn't feel you breathing as he cleaned out your little nose and mouth." Erik's voice had become very thick with emotion and Bella felt her own eyes begin to overflow as she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I couldn't look at your mother, but she was begging me to hold you, so I placed your tiny little body into her arms. I still remember the way she brought you up to her face and spoke into your ear. I don't know what she said to you, but I was nearly sick with grief when you made your first tiny sound. I rushed to sit beside her and we both watched as you opened your eyes for the first time and moved your little arms." With a small smile, her father took her slim wrist into his hand and patted her hand. "You didn't cry, you just lay there and looked at us with those sweet, calm eyes. I'll never forget how long your eyelashes were even then." Erik grinned, "And then, the funniest thing happened…the rain stopped and the sun came out. The doctor told us you would be just fine and cleaned you up. I let your mother sleep for a bit after that and held you for a long time."

"I never knew…" Bella said thoughtfully. Her father nodded.

"The funny thing is, I remember explicitly thinking when I was holding you near the window where the sunlight was coming in, that you were the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen in my life. Your hair was thick and curling and though your eyes were blue when you were born, I knew they would be brown one day." Erik stopped, changing course, "Now, as you know, long before I met your mother, I lived in Italy for a time…so I have a deep love of the Italian language. And so I named you Bella, which is Italian for beautiful. Isabella would be your given name, but you would always be called Bella because of that. Don't you see, Bella? You could never be plain…or mediocre…or any other form of unexceptional you can think of. There is a goodness inside you that none of your sisters have." Erik met her eyes. "Don't get me wrong," He remedied, "All of your sisters are _good_, but it is rare that one meets a pure soul like yours, Isabella." Holding her tighter, he added, "I almost lost you once…I don't think I could have lived through losing you again."

"You are just saying this because you are my father." Bella replied, but was unable to mask a small smile.

"Perhaps I am biased." Erik said with a shrug. "But I didn't tell Lord Keating to fall in love with you. You did that all on your own." He gave her shoulders a squeeze. "And I think it's safe to assume that you will be a wonderful Marchioness."

"Do you think so?" She asked, hugging her father tightly.

"Of course." He replied, kissing her temple, "Like I said, I am extremely biased when it comes to my children." For the first time, Bella noticed Tris was draped over the sofa across the room asleep and smiled. He looked completely uncomfortable, but he had stayed with her. A surge of love for him sped through her body. Looking at her father, he nodded in understanding. She watched as her father moved across the room, to wake him up. He said something quietly and within seconds, Tris was on his feet and lunging across the room to her. She frowned as she noticed him limping.

"I'm going to be just outside the door." Erik said, almost warningly. He gave Tris a pointed look and Bella watched him nod. With a final glance at her, Dad left the room with a wry grin on his face.

Holding her arms out, she pulled Tris into an embrace. He buried his face into her neck and laid beside her.

"Every bad thing that's happened to you lately…it's my fault." He said huskily. Shaking her head, she brushed his bronze hair back.

"How could you have stopped it?" She gently soothed. "Don't dwell on it, love. Let's just enjoy the fact that we have the rest of our lives to be together."

"I love you." He sobbed, resting his head against her breasts. Bella kissed the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

"What happened to your leg, Tris?" She asked worriedly, eyeing the bandage.

"The horse stepped on it when I pushed you out of the way. It's not broken, the doctor doesn't think, but I'll have to be careful for a long time because it's badly bruised." He winced.

"You saved my life." She said as he looked up to meet her eyes.

"I was so scared, Bella." Tris said, "I am never letting you out of my sight again. I think your father understands…it's why he let me sleep on the sofa in here."

"Where is Charles?" Bella asked with a yawn. Tris moved so that he was the one holding her against his chest with her arm draped over him. She liked the feeling…she was surrounded. Secure.

"After he saw that Frederic had been shipped back to London on a train to go to prison, he was pining for Emmy." Tris gave her half a smile. "Can't say I blame him. I wouldn't want to be away from you…even a mile away and here we are in Italy."

"Poor Charles." She laughed fondly, feeling her eyelids start to close again. "I love you…" She whispered. When she got no response, her eyes opened to look at him.

He was smiling in his sleep.

* * *

**Just a couple more!!!!!!!!! And then to start the sequel! **

**I hope this is satisfactory!  
**


	24. The Tarnished Side of the Coin

"I can't do this." Emmy said, panting backstage at the Opera Populaire. Her parents still had no idea of her intentions to audition, though Charles had told his father, who, in turn had insisted that her parents come to the auditions just to watch and enjoy. Charles looked patiently down at her, settling his hands on each of her shoulders.

"You can, Emmy. If my father was able to get us a special license to marry so soon, you can certainly sing in front of a few people" Charles grinned down at his wife of nearly one week. "You are my wife. How could you be anything less than stellar." She gave him a frazzled roll of her eyes, but smiled despite herself. The two had been married in her parents' home in front of their immediate families. Emmy had worn a simple white gown and a veil as her father had walked her down the short aisle to Charles. It had been an emotional and lovely ceremony befitting both of their interests. Even Charles had cried during his vows.

That night, he'd finally made love to Emmy in their bed at his townhouse. He had begun plans on a new home for them near Le Havre since she so loved the sea side. They would remain in Paris until it was completed, probably the following summer.

"You are such an arrogant, high handed man." She mused and he nodded.

"It's part of my charm though, love. Don't yo u think?" Catching her chin in his fingers, he brought her lips to his.

"Maybe if Mum and Dad hadn't come--"

"They need to see this Emmy. You need to show the world what you can do." Assessing the situation expertly, he hid a smirk. "You are the daughter of Christine Daae. To keep that voice to yourself would be a sin."

"Excuse me, Monsieur Destler." Charles turned to see one of the stage managers standing there patiently. "Messieurs Firmin and Destler would like to begin auditions."

Charles nodded and pulled Emmy into a quick hug.  
"Remember, love, confidence is all you need. If you are frightened just find me in the audience. I will guide you." Charles could feel her labored breathing and held her tighter before kissing her fervently on the lips. "Your rewards after today will be plenty." He added rakishly. A strong blush tinted her pale cheeks as he pressed a final kiss on her hand and strode away to sit in the seats.

Her parents looked up at Charles in surprise as he sat beside Emmy's father.

"Charles." The Comtess said in pleased surprise. "What are you doing here?" Charles moved to kiss his mother-in-law's cheek.

"Just watching." He replied innocently as his father called out the gentlemen first. It was a crashing bore, watching people who were fame seekers make fools of themselves in front of others.

"Apolline Van Antwerp." Charles heard his father call out dryly as an odd looking woman walked out. Her thin hair was pulled so tightly back that it seemed to affect how her face looked. Her nose was quite large, and Charles noted that when she sang, her nostrils flared to such proportions that it was physically difficult for him to not laugh out loud at her. The look on his father's face told him that he was not impressed with Apolline either.

"Thank you." Erik cut her off, giving Firmin a look. The older man shrugged uncomfortably and flipped to the next form. "Margareta Edgecumbe."

Four more girls sang before it was finally time. Charles knew his father had deliberately saved Emmy for last. And, at that point, she was their last hope for every girl's voice had cracked or gone sharp at the high point of the aria.

"Thank you." Erik interrupted the particularly quavering vibrato of Mademoiselle Clairesse Wolsey. "Emmeline Destler." He called. There was a slight pause in the room, along with a murmur throughout the people watching. Charles felt many eyes turn to him, but he ignored them, meeting the eyes of his wife's parents.

"Did Erik just say Emmeline Destler?" Christine asked with wide brown eyes the exact same shade as her daughter's. Raoul gave a slight surprised smile, but said nothing as he saw his daughter walk onto the stage. She held herself confidently, as Charles had instructed, but he could see beneath her calm façade. Emmy was terrified. Meeting his eyes, she tried to smile. He winked at her as the accompanist began to play.

If she was scared, Charles did not notice in her singing. Her voice, which had grown from a lovely lyric soprano to a soaring coloratura. Because of her dedication, she had surpassed every limit that she'd had and was completely steady in the quality of her voice. Charles snuck a glance at his father's face. His head was tilted as he watched Emmy, and half a smile had crept onto his face. His eyes were alight and he turned to meet Charles's eyes and gave him the tiniest bit of a nod. Charles could not contain his smile as he realized Emmy had won the part.

Afterward, when his father had taken M. Firmin to deliberate on the outcome, Emmy ran out from backstage breathlessly. Her face was flushed, but she looked considerably better than she had before. Charles caught her in his arms and kissed her on the lips.

"I thought you were nervous." He teased as she smiled up at him before turning to her parents. Christine de Chagny looked as though she might cry at any moment. Emmy smiled shyly at her mother and father, taking her father's outstretched hand.

"You never told us you could sing." Raoul said, pulling his youngest into a hug. Emmy laughed quickly.

"You n ever asked." She replied teasingly, kissing her mother's cheek. "I wanted to surprise you. And I didn't want to say anything in case I changed my mind."

"And you did all that on your own?" Christine asked, impressed. Emmy blushed.

"Charles helped me, Mum." She admitted. "I asked him to months ago and we were meeting in secret." Emmy looked adoringly back at him. "It's how I fell in love with him."

"I did nothing, Madame le Comtess." Charles assured his mother-in-law. "It was all Emmy, I assure you."

"History has a funny way of repeating itself, doesn't it love?" Raoul asked his wife, chuckling.

"If you would please return to the stage," Charles saw his father come back into the room, "We will announce the cast."

"In the role of Dario, we have a M. Delamonte." His father announced. "And in the role of Vianca we have Mme. Destler." Charles watched his father give Emmy a sly wink, before turning to meet his eyes knowingly. Looking past him at Emmy's mother, the Countess could only stare at him in wide eyed shock. The Comte was grinning from ear to ear as Erik announced the supporting cast.

"I think we'll celebrate tonight." Raoul said when Emmy returned excitedly to them. "We'll all go to the Nouritture de Luxe."20

"Perfect." Charles agreed, as Erik joined them.

"You knew all along, didn't you Erik Destler?" Christine demanded when he approached. With a guilty shrug, Erik stooped to kiss her cheek.

"You'll never know."

* * *

Emmy held her husband's arm as they ambled slowly through town, enjoying the bright sunlight and the warm weather. It had been a very trying day, but it had been worth it. She had achieved her goal and, though she would likely never do another opera after this one, she couldn't have been prouder. There was a gusty wind, but it was warm and soothing. Charles would not let her within a foot out of his reach and kept moving to kiss her forehead, or her cheek…or, God forbid, her neck.

In the open!

Not that she really minded, because in all truth, what could people say about two married people showing affection in public. A small thrill ran through her body at the thought of returning home with him and the events that would follow directly. Emmy had found that she thoroughly enjoyed making love with Charles…and that he truly was devoted to her pleasure before his own. In fact, the man seemed to thrive off of it, never taking before she had received.

And there were times when Emmy realized her own carnal power over him and took advantage, doing things she'd never even imagined under his wicked guidan ce. She shuddered at even the thought of some things they had done in the past week.

There had been the time when Charles had had supper sent to their bedroom directly and had eaten fruit straight off of her body.

Or when she had surprised him in the music room wearing nothing but a corset and stockings…

"A few more minutes." Charles said to her, obviously reading her thoughts. She turned worried eyes onto him and he gave her a devilish look. "You are easy to read, darling wife."

"You would think I could at least control myself for part of the day." She muttered as he gently lifted her to avoid her tripping over uneven concrete.

"I love that you can't, I love that I can drive you wild…" He stopped them, moving toward her. "Perhaps I could show you--" She stopped him, however, hearing the soft echo of a girl crying.

"Do you hear something?" She whispered. His face darkened as he too heard the sobbing coming from the side of a building. Taking his hand, she led him around the corner and found a young woman sitting there with her head buried in her knees. Her dark hair was uncoiled and messy and she was nearly wretching with tension. Letting go of Charles, Emmy cautiously approached the young lady and sat beside her.

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" Emmy asked softly and the girl lifted her head. With a start, she realized she was looking at Chloe Blanchard, but something was off. Emmy should have been ready to leave her there, but something about the way Chloe's gray eye was swollen and blue unnerved Emmy. She met Charles's eyes. He looked slightly taken aback, but unsure of what to do.

"What happened?" Emmy asked Chloe softly as though she were speaking to a moody hedgehog. Chloe bristled, shrinking from her touch.

"What do you care?" Chloe asked, defeated. "Leave me be." Her eyes were blank and she stared straight ahead.

"Who did this to you, Chloe?" Emmy pressed on, ignoring Charles's gesture to leave. Giving him a look, she hesitantly took Chloe's hand into hers. A great sigh left the girl's body.

"My uncle." She whispered. Emmy looked up at Charles, who had halted and was staring down at the two of them with hard, horrified eyes. "I wouldn't…" Shaking her head, Chloe stopped. "Never mind."

"Tell me." Emmy urged. Chloe began to sob again.

"At night, when my uncle stays with us, he sneaks into my room and makes me do…things…with him!" She cried. "He's been doing it for years!" Chloe became defensive. "There! Are you happy?"

"And you told your father?" Emmy said gently. Chloe nodded.

"He doesn't care! Uncle Rothgeld is my father's favorite sibling. I tried to tell him and he didn't believe me!" A long, wracking sob was drawn from her body as Charles sank to sit on her other side. "It's gotten worse now I'm grown. You see, he likes them young…really young. When I developed, he grew angry with me, like I could control it."

"Jesus…" Charles hissed through his teeth, putting his arm around the girl. "What about your mother?"

"She's oblivious." Chloe said bitterly. "All she cares for is money."

"How old were you when he first…when he took your--?"

"Virginity?" Chloe gave a sharp laugh - an ugly, bitter sound. "I was nine." Scoffing at herself, she shook her head. "Why am I telling you these things? I've never been nice to you for one day, Emmeline."

"I'm willing to be the bigger person." Emmy said with a slight smile.

"I am sorry about the way I've treated you." Chloe said regretfully. "I've always been so jealous of your family and how much you all love each other."

"I forgive you." Emmy said without hesitation. "But, Chloe, we cannot in good faith let you go back to that house."

"Where am I supposed to go?" Chloe asked, accepting Charles's handkerchief. Emm y saw him sigh. Emmy gave her a sympathetic look, but remembered something her mother had told her recently.

"My grandmother, the Dowager Countess is looking for a companion in her old age." Emmy said, looking up at her husband. "You would live with her and attend balls with the old crone, and you would have to read to her, but in return, she would buy you fine clothes and you would have a warm bed, safe from any intruders. With my lady grandmother as your employer, your position would be respected."

"Do you think she would take me?" Chloe asked hopefully, sniffling. Emmy nodded.

"My dear, at this point, you are the only one who would have her." Emmy said wryly. Charles could not hold back a grin, Emmy noticed.

"I don't want to go home to get my things…" Chloe replied after a moment. Charles stepped forward.

"We will accompany you," He began, "On one condition Chloe." Emmy watched his eyes narrow at her. "When my sister was a child, you stole a precious doll from her. A porcelain doll…" The look in her eyes told Emmy that Chloe knew precisely which doll he was speaking of. "Do you still have it?" A slow nod bobbed the girl's head. "You will give that doll back into Isabella's keeping. Am I understood?"

"Yes." Chloe replied thickly, allowing him to guide her by the arm. Emmy took his free arm and slipped it over her shoulders. "I don't know how I'll ever thank you." She added, crying again.

"You won't." Charles replied tartly. Emmy glared at him.

"It's not necessary, Chloe." She assured the girl. "After what we've learned about your situation, it is not something we are doing as a favor…it is a necessity that we remove you from that vile environment. And I intend to tell my father." Emmy added. "Besides…my grandmother is a dour old crone. I would say we're even if you can handle her."

* * *

Tris was seated in the Destlers' large front parlor and was eyeing the grand piano in the corner of the room. It had been years since he had played and the itch had returned upon their arrival home from Milan. Tris supposed it was because there was nothing holding him apart from his own happiness any longer. Even his mother had grudgingly admitted that he was the Marquis and therefore, she would trust his judgment in taking Bella as his bride. In turn, the Marchioness had begun to groom Bella to take on her own position and had been teaching her English etiquette and the rules of being a peer. Bella did not blink an eye under the woman's critical gaze and, in fact, showed nothing but the utmost respect for Cordelia Coolidge, soon to be Dowager Marchioness of Keating.

Frederic had been put into prison, much to the relief of everyone, including Tris's mother. She had admitted to the foolish affair, but denied ever bedding Halstead. It did not matter…Tris had no desire to know of his mother's bedroom exploits. The house was quiet for the day as the girls were all busy and Madame Destler had taken little Esme to visit Madeleine and Olivia. In precisely two weeks, Bella would become his wife. Tris had made it very clear to all that it was quite possible that he had compromised her and no one was willing to risk her being pregnant already. So it had been decided that she would become Lady Keating sooner rather than later, which suited Tris just fine. After the large wedding his mother insisted upon, they would return to England where his mother would be throwing a large ball to celebrate the marriage of her son.

Tris had to hand it to the woman, she had certainly come round to the idea that he would not hesitate to throw her out on her behind if she did not comply with his wishes. Not that things had become warm and fuzzy between the two of them. In fact, Tris still avoided the woman at all costs and she, in turn, was no sweet lady. She still called him weak and told him daily that he would never be the aristocrat his father had been. He sort of liked it though. It was what he knew…comfortable.

Making his decision, he walked toward the piano and reached it in three strides. He lifted the cover and pressed one of the gleaming keys, listening in awe at the beautiful echoing sound of the note. Settling his hands into a familiar position, he began to play his favorite song, _Moonlight Sonata _by Beethoven. It was as if he had never stopped playing and a rush swept through his soul as if he were being freed from a great oppression.

When he had finished, he realized he was not alone and turned to see his mother and Bella standing there. His mother did not smile, but something in her green eyes told him that she was glad to hear him play again. Bella gave him a small, discreet smile.

"I will leave you two to talk." The Marchioness replied, guiding Bella's shoulders back and her chin up. "You must carry yourself as if you were born to it, dear." She reminded her, patting her cheek and sweeping from the room. Tris rolled his eyes after her, meeting Bella and taking her hands. When she had seen that his mother was gone, Bella reassumed her normal posture.

"She is trying." Bella said to him, leaning up for a quick kiss before taking off her gloves. "The wedding dress is nearly finished." She added with a touch of surprise. "Madame Priscilla never ceases to amaze us…and she's nearly eighty!"

"I'm sure it will be lovely." Tris replied, uncaring whether Bella wore a gown or a burlap sack. "You won't be wearing it long anyway…" He added with a crooked smile. Bella gave him a light slap on the chest.

"Lord Keating, behave yourself! In my mother's house!" She teased. Folding his arms, he looked down at her with a long, assessing look.

"Why my love, I believe it was you who seduced me…" Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he added, "You scandalous little minx." Delightful patches of pink colored her pale cheeks. As he moved to kiss her, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and realized that three people had come into the room. Bella let out a small gasp as she saw her brother and sister-in-law. Emmy moved forward to embrace Bella, kissing her cheek.

"Bella, we've brought someone…" Emmy said quietly, meeting her eyes. Tris recognized Chloe Blanchard immediately, a slight queasiness coming into his stomach as he remembered the night she had thrown herself at him after kissing Charles.

"I see that." Bella said quietly, looking stricken. Questioningly, she met Charles's eyes. Chloe stepped toward Bella cautiously, as one would approach a stray dog. From behind her back, she drew forth a gorgeous porcelain doll that looked very like Bella. Tris watched Bella's warm eyes grow wide with hurt first. "How could you?" She asked Chloe quietly, taking the doll from her. Chloe bowed her head in shame.

"I admit, I have been an unfavorable person in the past, Bella." She replied quietly. "I am so very sorry…"

"I forgive you." Bella said in her way, holding the doll lovingly to her heart. "But I thought you were my friend…"

"You wouldn't want me as a friend." Chloe said, avoiding Tris's face. "I'm not fit to be in your presence."

"Oh, stop that." Bella replied, pulling the girl to sit on the sofa. "You've been crying."

"Forget it." She said and Charles shook his head to indicate that now was not the time.

"Chloe has just been offered the position of being companion to the Dowager Countess de Chagny." Charles said. "She will leave tonight for Emmy's grandmother's home."

"What's going on here?" Tris asked suspiciously, moving to stand beside Charles. His friend's face was grim.

"Chloe's situation at home is not suitable." He said simply. "Her uncle has acted inappropriately with her and she is not to be left there for another second. Her parents don't believe or are just bastards—"

"Charles, love." Emmy interrupted before he starting cursing.

"Sorry, pet." He remedied. "But the point is, she can not live there. So I have assumed responsibility for Chloe and have discussed the matter at length with the Comte de Chagny, who thought that Emmy's suggestion that she accompany the Dowager in her home was a most inspired idea."

"My father was so mad, he went over to the Blanchards to personally have it out with Chloe's mother and father and uncle." Emmy added.

"Thankfully, Dad had gone back to the Chagny's house and went with him." Charles told Bella, who nodded gravely. "We were able to get Chloe some of her things and the doll."

Bella looked at the doll, touching its beautiful face and the long curling hair before letting out a great sigh.

"As much as I appreciate having her back, I think you ought to keep her, Chloe." Bella replied, placing her into the girl's trembling hands.

"Why?" Chloe asked tearfully. In a very motherly way, Bella put her arm around the girl and gave her shoulders a squeeze.

"You need her more than I do." Bella held the girl as she began to sob. "You should have befriended us sooner, Chloe." She said soothingly. "We Destlers are extremely loyal." Standing, Bella took Chloe's hand. "Now come with me and let's get that eye taken care of." Emmy followed them out of the room, taking Chloe's other arm.

"Did you ever think you'd see the day that Bella Destler and Emmy de Chagny would be tended to Chloe Blanchard like a wounded lamb?" Tris asked Charles when they had gone. A look of strained bemusement stayed on his face as he met Tris's eyes with his own.

"It took me a bloody decade to get that doll back for her and she gives it away!" Charles said testily. He shook his head. "I don't understand women, Keating…I don't understand them at all." Tris smirked, holding back a laugh.

* * *

**Two more chapters and then the Epilogue, followed by the sequel!!!!!**

**Also, I will be making a couple of minor changes throughout this one because somehow I got my timelines mixed up so here is how it is supposed to be. **

**This story takes place in 1898. Twenty five years after Charles was born in Fire and Ice. **

**The Epilogue of Fire and Ice took place in 1894. **

**Here is a quick family tree following the story. [for my own benefit]  
**

**Erik Destler b. 1832**

**Evangeline Lambourne Destler b. 1848**

**Charles Remus Erik Destler b. March 1873**

**Madeleine Giselle Destler b. 1876**

**Isabella Rose Coolidge nèe Destler, Marchioness of Keating b. 1878**

**Claire Sophia de Chagny nèe Destler, Vicomtesse de Chagny b. 1880**

**Julienne Olivia Destler b. 1881 **

**Esme Marie Destler b. 1888**

**Christine Charlotte, Comtesse de Chagny b. 1854**

**Raoul Georges, Comte de Chagny b. 1849**

**Charlotte "Lotte" Florence Granger nèe de Chagny, Duchess of Reddon b. 1872**

**Gustave Raoul Georges, Vicomte de Chagny b. 1877**

**Emmeline "Emmy" Vivienne Destler, nèe de Chagny b. 1879**

**Fern Lambourne Holden b. 1856**

**Dag Holden b. 1846**

**Lillian Nerissa Holden b. 1880**

**Jane Penelope Holden b. 1881**

**Lucy Mathilda Holden b. 1883**

**Giselle Brigette Holden b. 1885 twin  
**

**Nora Evangeline Holden b. 1885 twin**

**Marcus Damien Holden b. 1889**

**Thomas Laurent Holden b. 1894**

**(Yikes these two were busy!)**

**Bianca Lambourne Moreau, Vicomtesse LaSalle b. 1854**

**Ansel Moreau, Vicomte LaSalle b. 1845**

**Raphael "Rafe" Moreau b. September 1873**

**Colin Moreau b. 1875**

**Gabrielle Moreau b. 1879**

**Cadence Lambourne Simon b. 1844**

**Reid Simon b. 1841**

**Nathan Simon b. 1864**

**Daniel Simon b. 1867**

**Elena Simon b. 1872**

**Bethany Lambourne Delaflote b. 1846**

**Ian Delaflote b. 1842  
**

**Amelia Haverston Belgrave, nèe Delaflote b. 1872**

**-Gaston Belgrave b. 1866**

**-Jane Belgrave b. 1890**

**-Claude Belgrave b. 1893**

**Roger Tiernay b. 1879  
**

**I think that's everyone for now! Enjoy!!!!  
**


	25. What God Hath Brought Together

Bella didn't suppose she'd ever seen all of her sisters, cousins, mother and aunts in one place at one time, but here they all were, crowded into the Destler home the morning of her wedding day. Eighteen women surrounded Bella as she was buttoned into the elaborate dress that had been built for her. It was a full skirted creation of tulle, satin and an overlay of ivory lace. The long sleeves fit snugly against her slim arms and were cuffed with a small ruffle. A long train laid gracefully behind it, and, though it made Bella slightly nervous, her mother had assured her that the twins would make sure it stayed in place.

The Marchioness walked with intent through the throngs of girls toward her, much to Bella's trepidation. She desperately hoped that the past few weeks of an uneasy truce between them would hold. She carried a small wooden box in her bony fingers. Taking her mother's hand, she held it tightly as if Maman could protect her from what the intimidating woman had to say.

"I have something for you, child." Lady Keating said stoically, never smiling. There was not a warm feature in her face, cold from years of unhappiness. Her eyes, the same brilliant green as Tris's seemed faded…distant.

"My lady," Bella began in protest, "There was no need--"

"I wore these on my wedding day, to the late Lord Keating." She interrupted without listening to Bella's protests. "And now, you shall wear them when you wed my son." Gently, she opened the top of the smoothly carved box, revealing two flowers sparkling with diamonds. "These are clips for the hair." She explained, drawing one out. "To hold the veil." Bella thought she saw the corners of the woman's lips twitch upward for a moment. "I hope that they bring you better luck in your marriage than they did in mine."

Her mother took the filmy veil out of Madeleine's hands and placed it over Bella's upswept hair. Together, she and Lady Keating clipped the veil into place, completing the ensemble. Turning, Bella looked at her reflection in the mirror and felt her eyes sting with tears. For once in her life, she truly felt beautiful.

"Bella…" Maddie said, squeezing her hand tightly before linking her arm through Bella's.

"I know." Claire added, joining her other side. Bella sniffled, linking her other arm through Claire's. Leaning to her left, she kissed Claire's cheek and then did the same with Madeleine's.

"I love you both." She said softly, smiling as Esme padded over to her carrying her basket of flower petals.

"Bella, do I have to dance with Marcus at the reception?" She asked, pouting. Marcus was their Aunt Fern's second youngest child and was one year younger than Esme.

"Yes." She replied gently, caressing the child's rosy cheek. "But only for one short song, love."

"Can't I dance with Roger?" She asked, tilting her head.

"No." Evie said with a small smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to do with Marcus."

"But he always tries to put bugs in my pockets!" Esme said, turning to Aunt Fern, who nodded sympathetically.

"I am sorry about that dear." Fern replied, smoothing Esme's wild curls. "But his father has warned him to be on his best behavior or there would be consequences." Leaning over to Evie, Fern added, "Dag threatened to take away his seaside trip." Bella's mother laughed, gently guiding Esme back toward the twins.

Bella noticed Julienne was sitting away from the group, staring at the floor. Leaving Claire and Maddie to talk, she walked over to join her sister and sat - carefully - beside her.

"I went to tell Simon about my…affections for him the other day." Julienne said without prompting from Bella. Her blue eyes met Bella's. "I didn't get to. I found out that he called on Darya Westcliff."

"Oh, Peach." Bella said softly, calling Jules by her childhood pet name. "I'm sorry…"

"No matter." Julienne replied straightening. "I don't think I'd like to marry. I rather think it would hold me back in life…and I'd like to have a career."

"Don't say that, Jules." Bella chided. "You will marry. Maman had a writing career and was married with six children."

"Not me." Julienne insisted. "I don't need a husband." Patting her sister's hand, Bella kissed her temple. "Whatever you think is best, dear."

The door to the crowded room opened and Bella saw her father's dark head above everyone else's. He made his way through them, stopping to kiss her mother before he stopped in front of Bella.

"Bella, indeed." He grinned down at her, kissing her cheek. Her mother joined his side and she found herself face to face with her parents for the last time before she would leave their home and move to England. Her things had already been sent ahead to the Keating townhouse in London. A large lump formed in Bella's throat and she couldn't quite find her voice.

"Dad, I--"

"Shh…" He soothed, pulling her close as she began to tear up again. "I know. I'm not ready to let go of you, yet." Her mother let out a sound between a sob and her name. Erik pulled Evie into the embrace and held the two of them together against his chest. "Now stop this, you emotional females." He teased. Bella felt her mother give him a quick pat on his arm.

"Who was it that broke down last night, Erik Destler?" She challenged, looking up at her husband. "I seem to recall holding you for hours as you reminisced about Bella's first words…her first step…the first song she ever played on the piano without help."

"Dad!" Bella said in surprise, laughing through her tears.

"I did. It was awful, and I'm glad you didn't have to see it." He quipped. "It wasn't pretty, was it, Evie love?"

"Not at all." Evie agreed. "But very endearing."

"Oh Papa…" Bella sighed, taking in the familiar scent of her father's cologne. "I do love you both very much."

"Bella, it's time." Maddie said from behind her. She was holding Bella's large bouquet of white lilies and red roses. "We must make our way to the Cathedral." In her moment with her parents, she hadn't realized that everyone had filed out and left for the church where she would become Lady Keating. Taking the flowers from her older sister, Bella drew the veil down over her face as was traditional.

"How do I look?" She asked. Claire smirked.

"Like a bride."

"You're next." Bella said with a grin. Claire nodded.

"Not for a few months. Gustave and I are just fine with taking things at a normal pace unlike you and Charles." She replied wryly. Bella giggled, and took her hand to follow her out to the waiting carriage.

* * *

Tris was nervous. There was really no other way to describe it. He was pacing furiously in the room where he was waiting. Charles said that Bella had still not arrived at the Cathedral, even though all of her cousins and aunts had arrived and the church was full, simply waiting for the rest of the wedding party to arrive. His groomsmen consisted of Charles, Bella's cousins Raphael and Colin Moreau, Lord LaSalle's sons, and the ring bearer, Marcus Holden. Marcus was being warned by his father to behave himself.

"They've arrived." Charles said, coming into the room with a large sigh. "Em just met me to say that they are settled into the bridal room and that your mother is waiting for you to walk down the aisle with her." Tris nodded and let out a sigh of relief as Charles patted his shoulder. "I never thought I would see the day, Tris old boy." He grinned. Tris managed to smile.

"I thought you were going to kill me…I've been in love with her for years." He admitted. Charles shrugged.

"I suppose it's as it should be now." Charles commented. "Bella has really blossomed these past weeks. She's beautiful."

"She always was." Tris said quietly, thinking of her. His voice caught as he tried to find the words to go on, "I just want to say-" His voice broke, "I'm even more glad it's Bella because now we'll truly be brothers."

"We always were, Tris." Charles said, sounding oddly as if he had something caught in his own throat. Hesitating, they shook hands and began to pull apart, but Charles surprised him by pulling him in tightly for a hug. "Time to get married, Keating."

Tris followed Charles to where his mother was waiting with her normal sour look on her face. Dutifully, he bent to kiss her cheek.

"My Lady." He said cordially.

"My Lord." She replied. "I gave your bride the clips I wore to hold on my veil on my wedding day. It is a tradition for every Lady Keating to pass them on to the next." He looked down at her, impressed and managed a small smile.

"Why, you almost sound human, my Lady." He said. She made a slight noise in response, but said nothing else. The musicians began to play the Canon and two ushers opened the doors. In measured steps, they walked down the long flower filled aisle. The floral scent filled the air. The pair of them managed to look distinguished on their journey together. Kissing her cheek once more, Tris saw her to her seat and continued to the front of the altar to wait for Bella.

First through the door were Madeleine and Charles, followed by Claire and Raphael, then Julienne and Colin. The doors closed behind the third couple as the wedding march began and the congregation stood. When they opened again, little Esme and Marcus emerged. Marcus seemed wholly engrossed with carrying the velvet pillow with his and Bella's rings sewn on them while Esme scattered white and red petals over the floor. Her long, curling red hair had tiny white flowers scattered all throughout it.

The adorable ten year old was forgotten in a moment, however, because the bride and her father rounded the corner. Tris could barely see Bella's face through the veil, but he thought she was smiling. Her dress was elaborate and beautiful, befitting a Marchioness in every way. Her long, dark hair had been swept up into an elegant twist, giving her neck a long, swan like look. She exuded confidence, making her into an estimable beauty of grace and elegance as he'd always known she would. Not one person could have questioned his choice of bride that day. When they reached him, they waited for the cue from the priest.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?"

"My wife and I do." Destler said, placing her hand into Tris's. She smiled reassuringly up at him, squeezing his hand as she handed her bouquet to Madeleine.

"I require and charge you both that if either of you know any impediment why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you confess it now. Be assured that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's word allows, their marriage is not lawful."

Tris nodded, looking down at Bella, who also nodded. The priest smiled, satisfied as he began a prayer, bowing his head. With the resounding "Amen" of the chorus, he opened the book.

"Tristan Edward, do you take Isabella Rose for your lawful wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall live?" Tris managed a nod and replied in a husky voice.

"I do."

"Isabella Rose, do you take Tristan Edward for your lawful wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." She said in a small voice, squeezing his hand without looking at him. The priest nodded.

"A reading from the book of Genesis, Chapter two, versus twenty-one through twenty-five. Read by the bride's sister Claire Sophia Destler." He said as Claire walked to the podium.

"So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man's ribs and closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, "this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called 'woman, ' for she was taken out of man." for this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh. The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame." Claire grinned wickedly for a moment before returning to her designated spot beside Madeleine, who gave her a slight roll of her eyes.

"A Reading from the Gospel of Mark, Chapter ten, versus six through eight. Read by Madame Emmeline Destler." The priest went on as Emmy walked past the them to the same spot Claire had been in.

"But at the beginning of creation God made them male and female. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." Emmy met her husband's eyes momentarily, "So they are no longer two, but one." Tris saw Charles give her a tight smile and he even dared to reach out and brush Emmy's arm as she returned to her seat.

"And finally, A Reading from the Apostle Paul, the first letter to the Corinthians, Chapter thirteen, versus four through seven. Read by the bride's sister, Esme Marie Destler." Tris could not hold back a smile as the smart little girl skipped past them to her spot and the entire attendance gave a small chuckle as a box was provided for her to stand on.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

As she was helped down, she ran back to sit between her parents, who gave her looks of praise. She smiled prettily up at Bella, who winked at her. The priest went on.

"Let us pray for this man and this woman as they make their marriage vows." He said, holding his arms up to the sky. Tris bowed his head, listening to the words of the Father. "Father, as Tristan and Isabella have chosen each other, help them and bless them that their love may be pure, and their vows may be true. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen." The chorus resounded.

"Now it is time to recite the marriage vows." He said, as Tris turned to face Bella and took both of her hands into his as he looked into her eyes. "I, Tristan Edward-"

"I, Tristan Edward-" Tris repeated. "take thee Isabella Rose to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, 'til death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Bella repeated her vows the same, not wavering once, to her credit. Tris could have sobbed through them, but he summoned up all the control he possessed and made it through. Charles pulled Bella's wedding band gently from the pillow that little Marcus held still, even as he looked bored. The priest took the ring from Charles and prayed over it.

"Lord, bless this ring that he who gives it and she who wears it may abide in your peace, and continue in your favor until life's end through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen." Tris gingerly took the gleaming gold band and slid it onto Bella's slim finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment." Tris's voice wavered, and he almost had to stop, but he was successful in waiting until after his statement to sniff. Charles snickered behind him. Bella bit her lip, looking slightly emotional as well. The priest took Tris's ring from Charles again and prayed over it as he had done with Bella's before handing it into her fingertips. Tris felt his entire world come together as she pushed the smooth gold down past his knuckle. He loved the way it looked because it meant that she was his forever.

"With this ring, I thee wed." Her eyes met his and he could see them sparkling with tears even through the veil. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mrs. Destler dab at her own eyes with a handkerchief. "Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment." Tris tried to give Bella a smile, but his lips trembled, so he opted to remain stoic.

"Let us pray." The Father said, bowing his head again. "Father, we pray for all married persons, that they may continue to give, be able to forgive, and experience more and more of the joy of the Lord with each passing day. And especially for Tristan and Isabella now beginning their married life together, that they may have divine assistance, the constant support of friends, and a long life with good health. May your fullest blessing come upon Isabella and her husband Tristan from this day forward, for ever and ever, Amen." He lowered his voice, clasping his hands over theirs. "May Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, always be at the center of the new lives you are now starting to build together, that you may know the ways of true love and kindness. May the Lord bless you both all the days of your lives and fill you with his joy. Amen."

Taking each of their right hands, the priest brought them together and laid them flat against each other. Entwining their fingers together, he went on. "Those, whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. In so much as Tristanand Isabella have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, having given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and having declared same by the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they are husband and wife. Seal the promises you have made with each other with a kiss."

Tris carefully drew back the lacy film of her veil and saw clearly her face, which was slightly glistening with tears. Giving him a small, tight smile, she nodded up at him Cradling her face in his fingertips, he bent to give her lips a chaste, lovely kiss as the chorus clapped.

"I love you." He whispered against her lips. She nodded, touching his own wet cheek as he drew back. Tris was unable to look away from the warm amber of her eyes even as the priest presented them to the people.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you Lord and Lady Keating, Tristan and Isabella Coolidge." He smiled at the two of them. "Now let us pray." They all recited the final prayer as the ceremony ended. People began to file outside while Tris and Bella followed the Father into the vestry to sign the register with Maddie and Charles, who stood as their witnesses. Tris held Bella's hand as Madeleine gathered her train and helped her with it.

"I've been on pins and needles all morning," Bella admitted. "I was afraid I was going to trip over myself and embarrass you." Tris chuckled.

"You couldn't embarrass me if you had shown up wearing nothing but your unmentionables." He said into her ear. Her eyes widened, scandalized, but she grinned up at him.

"You are a devil, Lord Keating."

"Wait until after our wedding breakfast, Lady Keating. Cyprus awaits…and I for one am anxious to stay in our honeymoon suite the entire time." Tris said rakishly.

"We are in a church, my lord." She reminded him under her breath. He let out a hearty laugh as they entered the vestry.

"I do love when you call me, my lord…" He added wickedly. To his surprise, her eyebrow raised and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Wait and see what I call you in Cyprus." She replied in a low, seductive voice before turning innocently to the priest and signing the register. He could not manage one word as she handed him the pen with a slight smirk.

* * *

**Sorry it's sort of short. There is one more, I believe and then the epilogue. I showed Tris and Bella's wedding because they are an aristocratic couple and it's very important that they had a very traditional wedding. Not to mention, Bella deserved to get married in style, I think. Thanks to everyone for reading...and reviews are always a welcome thing!!!! **

**I am working on the outline for the sequel as I speak.  
**


	26. Night and Day

_**September 1898**_

_Lontano_ was a huge success for the Opera Populaire, bringing in one of the largest audiences since it's heyday. It had been written by a new composer and, Erik, seeing the potential had offered to put it up for him. The man had been trying for years to get it put onstage, and now that his dreams had been realized, he was on his way to becoming a rich man. The English opera had already purchased rights to put it up after.

The story was about a man named Dario who ran away from home as a teenager and came home to find his childhood friend, Vianca had endured far more than a girl should have. He tries to help her through her struggles, falling in love with her after and, when he finally believes that she is going to thrive, she shoots herself. He finds her and she dies in his arms, telling him that she always loved him.

Opening night was a nerve racking time for Emmy, with dozens of flowers from friends and well wishers arriving while she was dressing. Her dressing room door opened to reveal the thin, lanky form of her costar, Anton Delamonte. Charles had been slightly jealous at first, but Emmy had soon learned during rehearsals that Anton was not interested in her…or any female for that matter. He'd become a close friend to her and even Charles had grown to like him.

"Break a leg, Em." Anton said with a grin. "I've got someone in the audience tonight."

"Who?" She asked curiously.

"Just a friend." He said, winking at her. She giggled, shaking her head.

"You're terrible." Emmy chided teasingly.

"His name is Jasper." Anton said, closing the door before she could say one more word. Chuckling to herself, she turned to the pile of letters she'd gotten that day, including one from Bella and Tris.

_Emmy-_

_How I wish we could be there to see you in the role you deserve! I must confess, even if we re in France right now, I haven't been feeling my best these past couple of weeks. Tris always worries, but I'm sure it's just exhaustion. Being a Marchioness is endless! I can't tell you how many teas and dinners I've had to attend. I can't imagine what things will be like once the Season begins…But I did need to write you and tell you that you are in my thoughts today and I miss you all very much. _

_Give Charles our love. _

_Bella_

Emmy grinned to herself, setting the letter aside as the stage manager peeked his head into the room.

"Madame Emmeline, we're at places." He said nervously. She smiled, drawing in a large breath and thinking of her husband, who was seated in Box Five with her parents and his. Adjusting her head dress, she blew out the candle and followed him out of the dressing room.

_

* * *

  
_

The audience was on its feet as Charles has known they would be. Emmy had lived up to every standard he'd set for her and more. Murmurs flew through the opera house of how it must only be natural for the daughter of Christine Daae to be nothing short of spectacular.

"…spitting image of her mother, don't you remember?" One person was saying.

"Oh yes." Another person, "But a very different voice. Daae was light and lilting while her girl has a rounder, more haunting sound."

"Both exceedingly lovely though."

"Destler is a lucky man…" A man added and Charles hid his pride, holding the bouquet of flowers as he clapped.

Charles hung back as people flooded the ballroom, waiting for Emmy to appease her newfound admirers. He watched as his entire family and hers greeted her, but waited patiently for when she finally settled her affections solely on him. He lingered near the far wall, leaning casually against it, happy to just watch her bask in the glow of her own success. His father couldn't have been prouder of her progress and made no secrets of his pride in his daughter-in-law.

Charles smiled as Emmy's costar and another young man walked by talking. Anton paused to shake Charles's hand.

"Destler, you should be very proud of her." He said amiably. Charles nodded, smiling.

"I have always been." He agreed, shaking the other man's hand.

"My friend, Jasper." Anton said in introduction. Charles would never have voiced his thought, but knew somehow that the two were more than just friends. A wry smirk played at his lips as he watched them walk away together.

"What is so amusing, Monsieur Destler?" Charles turned to see his petite wife standing beside him with her arms crossed. He handed her the flowers and stooped to kiss her cheek lovingly.

"Nothing of importance, pet." He grinned. "You were perfect, Emmy."

"It's because of you." Emmy replied, sidling closer to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"It's because of _you_." He corrected. "I merely gave you the motivation. You had the potential all along."

"I love you." Emmy said, resting her cheek against his chest. "And I want to go home."

"What about the celebration?" He asked incredulously. Her eyes glistened brazenly.

"The only person I want to celebrate with is you," She answered silkily, trailing a finger along his jaw line. "And I want to be in bed with a bottle of champagne."

Charles didn't even bother to say goodbye to his family, he pulled Emmy briskly out of the opera house, stopping only long enough to grab her cloak and hailed a hansom. The moment the locked clicked behind them in the quiet townhouse, she had leapt into his arms and twined her legs around his waist. He carried her, never taking his mouth from hers straight into the nearest room, the parlor and fell with her onto the plush carpet. Raking through the skirts, he dragged them upwards, revealing her lush legs in the white silk stockings she was wearing.

Without any effort, he removed her slippers and unhooked each of her garters, kissing the tops of her thighs as he exposed the creamy skin. Slowly, he rolled each sock down her leg, kissing the softness of her feet as he did. Her nimble hands were at work, unfastening her dress and pulling the constricting fabric away from her chest. Her corset must have been tied tightly, for her breaths were coming in short, quick spurts. Charles watched the way her pushed up breasts heaved as she panted, reaching for him. Using the tips of his fingers, he unhooked the front of the awful garment and ripped it from her body, tossing it aside without care. She removed her own chemise while he feverishly discarded his own clothing, lying beside her when he was fully naked.

He pressed a quick kiss to the softness of her stomach and ran his large hand over the tips of her breasts. Her eyes flickered with fire as he pushed her breasts together and ran his tongue over each taut peak. A small mewl of satisfaction emerged from her.

"Charles…I can't…I need you to…" She arched as his hand found her sex and he inserted a long finger inside her velvety moisture. Rocking back and forth, she writhed under his touch. When he felt the first spasms of her release start, he sheathed himself inside her swiftly and began to thrust in deep, measured movements. He grabbed each of her legs and brought them high up on her body, linking her knees over his shoulders for a more thorough penetration. This pleased Emmy immensely as she raked her finger nails over his back, sending chills of pleasure through him. Catching one of the legs draped over his shoulder, he ran his tongue along the curve of her calf. Charles felt her sex clamp tightly around him and allowed himself to spill into her, burying himself inside her completely one final time and staying there even as he continued to pulsate within.

Carefully, he withdrew and settled her legs back down, gathering her in the fold of his arms. Nuzzling against his neck, he felt her sigh, satiated.

"Damned if I haven't begotten a child this night." He chuckled. Emmy gave a tired laugh.

"I wouldn't doubt it, Charles Destler." She replied. "I wouldn't mind either."

"You wouldn't?" He inquired in surprise.

"No…I think we could be wonderful parents." She mused, rubbing her cheek against the scratchiness of his stubble. "Mmm…that's lovely Charles." He grinned, cupping one of her breasts again.

"Do you like that?"

"I love when you wait a day to shave." A tremor ran through her small body, sending sensations back into his. "It makes me want to do awful, sinful things to you." She moaned again, arching.

Charles pulled himself off of the carpet and stood, lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder. With a wicked grin, he slapped the round curve of her behind and carried her upstairs to their waiting bed to show her what was on his mind.

* * *

CHRISTMAS EVE

Claire moved about the ballroom and helped her sisters hang garland and ribbons to decorate for their Christmas party the following night. Excitement pooled in the pit of her stomach as she realized that Bella and Tris would arrive any moment and they hadn't visited since they'd left in August on their Honeymoon. Bella had written that she had a surprise for them, and Esme could hardly contain her excitement. Lord knew that the child loved presents.

Maddie and Adam were the first to arrive with little Olivia in tow. She was a delightful flame haired infant, who was going to grow to be a beauty one day. The baby smiled at the sight of Claire and Julienne, who stood expectantly. Maddie handed the baby to Claire, who could not help but pinch the chubby little arms of the cherubic baby.

"I'm glad you wanted to see _me_." Maddie teased, bending to kiss Esme's head.

"We don't care about _you,_" Julienne replied sardonically. "We lived with _you_ long enough."

"I don't mind living with you, love." Adam replied, putting his arm around Madeleine's shoulders. She smiled up at him and Claire cleared her throat.

"None of that here, Madeleine Giselle." Claire warned. "I'll have none of that gooey sentimental nonsense."

"Oh, _you're _one to talk." Maddie laughed. "You who transforms into a pile of mush every time the Vicomte de Chagny walks in the room."

"_I'm_ engaged." Claire said, tickling Olivia. "You're an old married couple…it's gross." Winking at her sister, she handed the baby off to Jules and hugged Maddie. "I'm only kidding, Sis."

"I know." Maddie said, kissing her cheek. "Where are Maman and Dad?"

"They went to take a nap." Esme said innocently. "Papa said that he was very tired." Claire, Julienne and Maddie all rolled their eyes knowingly.

"They are shameless!" Julienne cried.

"Now _that _is gross." Maddie commented and Claire laughed in agreement.

"Are you three really talking about Mother and Dad's carnal activities?" Charles asked, coming into the room with Emmy on his arm. Claire noticed Emmy looked a little drawn and tired, but her eyes were glowing with happiness.

"Unfortunately." Claire nodded, watching her brother put his arm around his wife.

"Is there anything you need, love?" He asked her. Raising an eyebrow, Emmy shook her head. "I'm going to find you something hot to drink."

"Charles, _really…_that's unnecess-"

"Indulge me, pet." He said, winking at her and leaving the room with Adam. Emmy gave a slight sound of frustration.

"He's so stubborn, that brother of yours. He treats me like I'm fragile sometimes." She said, but Claire thought she sounded more affectionate than irritated.

"Are you well?" Maddie asked Emmy, obviously noticing what Claire had. Emmy nodded with a smile.

"The holidays are very hectic for us this year, and I just need to catch up on sleep." She explained apologetically. "And Charles doesn't help because he keeps me up so l--" Stopping herself, Claire laughed as Emmy blushed heavily. Maddie laughed loudly as their mother came into the room, straightening her hair.

"Maman, did you have a nice nap?" She asked evilly. Evangeline gave her oldest daughter a wary glance.

"Hush, you…" She replied, pulling Emmy in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Emmy, how are you feeling? Charles told Erik at work that you haven't been feeling your best recently." Emmy shrugged, looking confused.

"I'm fine. Tired is all."

"Good…well, relax." Evie surveyed the ballroom with an approving nod. "This looks lovely girls. Why don't we all retire to the front parlor near the fire?"

They filed into the parlor, where Adam, Charles and Erik had congregated near the liquor cabinet. Emmy leaned over to take Claire's hand.

"Gustave told me to tell you that he would be along shortly." Emmy said. "He is helping mother prepare for Grandmamma's arrival with Chloe tomorrow." Claire smirked, thinking of the girl who had become the Dowager's companion. "Gustave says that Grandmamma almost seems happier since Chloe came to her."

"Imagine that." Claire replied acidly, sinking onto a settee and lounging for a moment. "Is Grandmere going to be along for Christmas?" She asked her mother. Evie nodded.

"She'll be here for the party tomorrow night, sweet. She is staying with Cadence because the boys are there and the new baby is there." Claire's cousin Nathan's wife had just given birth to his first child and Giselle was very adamant about seeing all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

"Hello?" A voice came from out in the hall. Claire's ears perked up at the sound of her fiancé's voice in the hallway. Shooting off of the settee, she ran into the hall and found him standing with his back to her. Grinning, she reached up around his face and put her hands over his eyes.

"Guess who." She said, feeling his cheeks move with his smile.

"Julienne." He replied, and she knew he was teasing. Pulling her hands off of his eyes, he turned to look down at her. "Merry Christmas, love." He was still cold and bits of snow clung to his overcoat as he bent to kiss her. "Sorry I'm late…"

"Don't be sorry." She said. "I can't wait until next week…"

"What's next week?" He asked, winking at her. "Only kidding, Claire." Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her slightly off of her feet so that she was at eye level with him. "I love that when the year changes, you'll be my wife."

"One week from today." She grinned, rubbing his cold cheek before pressing a kiss there. Gently, he set her to her feet and took off his coat and gloves, handing them to Jean. Claire took his hand and pulled her into the parlor so that everyone could greet him.

"Everything settled over at Mum and Dad's?" Emmy asked wryly. Gustave chuckled.

"Hardly. Mum's nearly chewed her nails down to the knuckle." He quipped. The two of them shared a fond laugh as Gustave turned to Claire's father and shook his hand. "Mum and Dad said to tell you that they would not be able to make it tonight, but they will see you tomorrow for the party." Claire's mother nodded, linking her arm through her father's.

"No worries." Erik replied. "I suppose your father is taking good care of her tonight."

Gustave made a noise between a gasp and a laugh, as he nodded. "That obvious, are they?" Claire's father rolled his eyes.

"They've never changed from being the sixteen year old and the twenty-one year old in love." He remarked, looking knowingly down at his wife. "Just as Claire's mother will forever be a twenty-four year old novelist with those gold rimmed spectacles on her face. She was positively adorable."

"_Really_ Erik." Evie replied, blushing, but she was grinning from ear to ear. Claire took Gustave's hand, intending to stay attached to his side for the rest of the night. That plan changed, however, when Bella and Tris arrived. They walked into the noisy parlor still wearing their coats. Bella's dark hair was hanging loose around her shoulders and she wore a pair of earmuffs. The pair of them were surrounded immediately, with Evie and Erik at the center of the crowd, hugging and kissing them. Bella kissed each of her sisters and Charles as Tris removed his coat and gave it to Jean. Removing her earmuffs and gloves, Bella smiled breathlessly, pushing the silky curtain of her hair over her shoulder.

"I suppose you're all wondering what my surprise for you is." She laughed, looking back at Tris, who nodded encouragingly. "Darling, could you help me with this coat?" Tris tenderly turned her toward him so that he could unbutton the coat and help her get it off. When he handed the coat to the butler, Bella turned around and the surprise became obvious. Her face had filled out slightly and Claire's eyes fell to the slightly rounded curve of her middle. A small, sheepish look crept into her sister's brown eyes.

"If all goes according to plan…Lord Keating may have an heir by the end of April or early May." She said, holding Tris's hand. A sound of approval resounded through the room as Bella was once again bombarded by people hugging her, kissing her, crying with her. Claire smiled up at Tris and wrapped her arms around him, laughing as she realized her head barely even reached his shoulder.

"Congratulations, Tris." She said and he smiled down at her with his normal half smile.

"Thank you, little sister." He kissed her cheek and reached out for Gustave's hand. "Merry Christmas Lord Chagny…"

"What if it is a girl?" Claire heard her mother ask Bella, who met Tris's eyes and laughed out loud.

"We have both realized that the possibility of that occurring is very probable, considering our family numbers." Bella held her hands out for Tris. "But we aren't worried, so long as our baby is healthy."

"Judging from the way it was moving last night, I'd say we have nothing to worry about, pet." Tris put a splayed hand over her small curve.

"It's become very noticeable lately." Bella admitted to Maddie. "At first, I thought it was just my stomach making noises, but it became apparent that it was the baby." Claire moved away from the crowd, drawing Gustave back with her as she did. Taking his arm, she pulled him to the window where the sun was setting, casting a shine over the freshly fallen snow. Leaning into his side for warmth, she rested her head against his shoulder as his arm draped over her body.

"Beautiful isn't it?" He asked. Claire nodded wistfully, watching the cloud formations change as they always did.

"Look at it well, Gustave." She said. "You'll never see that sky again. Even though the sky is always there is will never look the same again." Smiling, she turned in his arms and reached up to brush his cheek lovingly. "That's why it would be impossible…"

"What would be impossible, love?" He asked, brushing a black lock from her neck.

"Painting the sky." She said quietly. "It's sort of like the way I feel for you…it changes every moment of every day. Because it grows stronger and I think I know now why it took us so long to come together." Resting his cheek on the top of her head as he pulled her close, she felt him smile.

"Why is that?"

"Because we both had to change. We had to wait for the clouds to pass and the sun to come out just in time for a brilliant sunset." She snuggled into the warmth of his chest.

"I do love you, Claire." Gustave said, smoothing the back of her hair.

"I know." She sighed. "Finally…"

They stayed that way, watching as the swollen orange sun sank below the horizon bringing with it the dark, velvety night sky. For one moment, just before the sun disappeared, it was both night and day at the same time.

* * *

**Epilogue to follow. Thank you for bearing with me no matter how bad. **


	27. Epilogue

**May 5, 1899 **

**Paris, 2 A.M.**

"Claire…"

Claire made a noise of disapproval as she heard her husband's voice trying to wake her up.

"Love…your father is here." He said softly, brushing her hair back. Again, she moaned.

"Tell him to go away!" She protested, pulling a pillow over her head. Gustave chuckled, lifting the pillow away from her.

"Your mother sent him…Bella is having the baby." He told her and her eyes shot open.

"Dad is here?" She asked, rubbing her eyes roughly.

"He's downstairs…he said Bella has been asking for you."

Quickly, Claire pulled on some clothes and followed Gustave down to where her father was waiting in the foyer with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry to wake you, sweetheart." He said, kissing her cheek. His eyes were droopy with exhaustion.

"It's for Bella." Claire said immediately. "You know I would only do this for her."

"I know." Dad said with a smile. "Your mother is just so relieved that Bella wanted to have the baby here in Paris."

"So am I. I am so worried that we won't be able to see him or her very often because they live in England." Claire admitted.

"You know Bella would never let that happen." Gustave assured them. "She loves you all so much."

"Well, let's stop wasting time and get there before the baby is born!" Claire said, urging them out the door into the cool spring night.

* * *

Bella was in agony…there really was no other way to describe it. With each gripping pain coming within minutes of the last now, it was very hard to stay calm. Tris was beside himself, pacing and hovering over her like a madman. Turning to Julienne, she gripped her hand.

"Please calm him down. He's making me a wreck." She said between contractions. Jules gave a small giggle, eyeing Tris who looked like he might be ill. Their mother, seeing his distress, rang the servants' bell. Moments later, one of the maids peeked in the door.

"Could you please get Lord Keating a glass of whiskey, please?" Evie asked gently.

"Mother!" Julienne and Bella exclaimed at the same time. Evangeline smiled at them.

"Trust me…it helped with your father." She said. "All six times he insisted on being present."

"_Six?_" Tris cried. "I don't even think I can make it through _one_."

"Tris, you know you don't have to stay." Bella reminded him. "Most fathers don't."

"No." He said, sitting beside her on the bed and taking her hand. "I have to stay. I told you I would never leave your side again, and I won't." Bella managed a laugh.

"You are a lunatic." She teased as the door opened and Claire stepped into the room. Bella let out a sigh of relief. "Oh Claire…" Her sister looked worried.

"I must really love you, Bella, to be dragged out of my bed at two o'clock in the morning." Claire leaned down to kiss Bella's forehead.

"I needed you here because I have to tell you something." Bella cringed as another pain came. "I want you to be the Godmother."

As Bella met Claire's eyes, she saw the silvery green was sparkling with tears that threatened to spill over.

"You do? I thought you would choose Maddie, or someone else--" Bella laughed.

"I have known from the beginning that it was going to be you and Gustave." Bella began to cry…a regular occurrence these past few weeks. She was quickly cut off, however, by an odd pressure that caused her to jolt forward and pant. "It's coming…_now!_" She cried, gripping handfuls of the sheet as the doctor and his assistant rushed over. His eyes grew very wide as he looked beneath the sheet.

"Indeed." He said, adjusting his spectacles. "Sit forward, dear. That's a girl…now count to ten and push!" Tris wrapped his hand around her leg to help her as she began to push with all of her might. The pain was excruciating, but she now had to focus. The thought of the baby being breech as she had been when she was born had crossed her mind more than once. Falling back, she caught her breath and waited a moment before sitting up and doing it all again. After a few minutes of the same, she saw Claire's face become very pale and knew that she saw something. The doctor met her eyes and smiled, to her relief.

"The head is out." He explained. She fell back in a moment of relief as she realized the baby was coming out the right way. "A few more dear." Tris looked like he might faint at any moment, but to his credit, he stayed and watched with her as the shoulders came out next. This was the most painful, but Bella ignored it, pressing herself harder. A moment later, she felt instant relief and sank into the bed, trying to breathe normally. Both parents watched, waiting expectantly to meet their new child. The doctor looked first at Tris and then at Bella before holding the baby up.

"A boy." He said, placing the child on Bella's middle. Instinctively, her hands moved to hold him. The baby was squirming healthily and let out a hearty wail. Bella laughed and looked up at Tris, who had two tears making their way down his cheek. He brought a cautious hand to caress the thick reddish hair on the baby's head. The doctor quickly cut the cord and Bella's mother took him to clean him off while Bella dealt with the afterbirth. Tris followed Evie, unable to tear his eyes off of the infant.

Bella's sisters set about cleaning her up and changing her clothes. Claire brushed her tangled hair while Julienne helped her into a fresh nightgown. Tris walked back with her mother and sat beside her while Bella held out expectant arms for her son. The baby was a good, healthy size and he had a very pretty face, she thought. Then again, she was biased. He was beautiful…and he was _hers._ In her awe over the baby, she hadn't heard her mother and sisters leave her alone with her son and husband. Looking up into Tris's teary eyes, she managed a wobbly smile.

"Edward?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded, letting out a half sob. "The future Marquis of Keating…would you like to hold him?" Again, he managed to nod and held out his hands. Gently, she guided him, placing the baby at the right angle for him to support the head. The baby fit naturally into Tris's sturdy arms and to Bella's surprise, his eyes opened momentarily to look up at his father as if analyzing him.

"Do I make the cut, Edward?" He asked with a slight sniff. Bella bit her lip, filled with amusement. Bringing his other hand up, Tris touched the tiny palm of the newborn and his green eyes widened in surprise as the babies miniscule fingers closed around his own.

"He knows you'll be a better father than yours was to you." Bella said, knowing what Tris needed to hear. "I told him all along."

"Bella?" Tris asked, gathering his wits and smiling down at her.

"What is it, love?" She asked, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Don't tell Charles I cried." He replied and she had to laugh out loud, moving closer to his side as he lifted his arm for her to fit in it.

"I will tell him that you were completely stoic." She promise, as she rose up on her knees to kiss him.

* * *

"And Tris even cried!" Claire said, standing in the crowded room with her family. Julienne nodded, confirming this.

"It was quite adorable." She added, "The baby is so lovely too. He looks like Tris."

"Irish." Charles said with a roll of his eyes as if that were ample explanation for the dominant genes. Julienne watched as Charles looked down at his own pregnant wife, who still had a small, but well rounded middle. Emmy was glowing, though she looked positively exhausted. Charles turned to study her for a moment and nodded. "We'll be back in the morning to visit the baby." He said, reaching for Emmy and lifting her up off of her feet.

"Charles," She protested. "I am perfectly capable of walking." He looked at her in disbelief.

"Sweetheart, you were practically swaying." He pointed out. "Don't be so proud."

"Don't be such an ox." She retorted, closing her eyes against his shoulder. Julienne had to laugh…one year prior, she would never have dreamed that Bella would have a baby…that _Charles_ would have married Emmy and be expecting…or even that Claire and Gustave would come to their senses, yet here they all were.

And here she was…alone.

It gnawed at her that she was now eighteen years old and had only been slightly involved with one person…and it had only been to make someone else jealous. Though she would never admit it, James had asked her to pretend to be courted by him to make someone else jealous.

Lillian.

It had always been Lily for him since they were all very young…and though Julienne hadn't felt anything romantic toward James, she felt terrible that he was the only person who had shown an interest in her. Simon Reynolds was not the first person Julienne had fancied, but it was perplexing to her that she hadn't fancied anyone else since. When she'd finally worked up the courage to tell him how she felt, she'd found out it was too late. He had already been courting Darya, James's sister.

So Julienne had decided to give up. If it was meant to be for someone to fall in love with her, then it would happen without her help. She was through giving her heart away…her first rejection had stung enough. And really, the prospect of spinsterhood wasn't so terrible…really…

After all…she was only eighteen.

There was plenty of time…

* * *

**And so it ends...only to set up the next story which I will be posting immediately!!!! I hope you have all enjoyed this one as much as I have. Thank you for reading...**


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